Page 48 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

Just then she felt a warm, fluffy head push its way into her hand. Roly. She looked down to see a pair of happy amber eyes gazing up at her. Roly was a different kettle of fish to his dad; Hannah would always have time for Roly. ‘Hello there, fella, how’re you?’ She gave his ears a good ruffling which appeared to go down well if the speed of the tail wagging was anything to go by.

‘You okay, Hannah?’ Maggie turned to her.

‘Yep, fine, thanks. Just coming.’ She turned to Lachie. ‘Bye,’ she said, keeping her voice deliberately chilly. It stood in striking contrast to the chaos that was currently running riot in her heart.

Outside, the temperature had plummeted and a frost sparkled on the flagstones. Bear was waiting in the Landie, the vehicle’s exhaust fumes curling out into the darkness. It had been arranged earlier that his mum would pop in and babysit Lucy while her son did the taxi run for any of the lasses who took him up on the offer of a lift.

‘Who was that you were talking to?’ Maggie asked. ‘He wasn’t being funny with you, was he?’

‘No, nothing like that. He’s just someone who used to call at the burger van.’ Hannah was determined to play it down, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to herself and for her to have to elaborate. She’d already dumped a load on the lasses without adding her situation with Lachie into the mix – not that there really was a ‘situation’ to discuss, come to think of it.

THIRTY-ONE

Hannah opened her eyes and blinked. Her surroundings looked unfamiliar in the half-light that cloaked the room. She blinked again, confusion leaching away as she remembered she’d spent the night in Maggie and Bear’s spare bedroom. The space had the same cosy atmosphere as the rest of the house, with Maggie’s signature cheerful colours evident in the soft furnishings and a wall-hanging her friend had informed her she’d done in her teens.

From the shafts of light that were squeezing in through the boldly patterned floral curtains, Hannah guessed it must be getting on for eight a.m., and she had a sneaking suspicion the sun was shining. Much as she felt snug tucked up beneath the fluffy duvet, there was lots to do today, not least get the tyre changed on her car and take a look inside the pier café building. The latter made her heart leap. Though she felt a familiar thrum of anxiety running through her, Hannah felt more certain than ever to give her aunt’s wishes thorough consideration, particularly after her conversation with the lasses last night.

Heading downstairs, she followed the chirpy voices – and the aroma of freshly toasted bread – to the kitchen where she found Maggie and Bear in conversation. Little Lucy was sitting in her highchair chewing on a piece of toast, her hair a wild bird’s nest of curls.

‘Hi dere.’ The little girl waved her half-chewed toast at Hannah, beaming a smile and making Hannah’s heart melt.

‘Hi there, Lucy. Your toast looks yummy.’

‘Morning.’ Bear greeted her with a smile, a huge mug of tea in his hand. ‘Cuppa?’

‘Mm. Please.’

‘Morning, Hannah.’ Maggie, her hair almost as tousled as her daughter’s, beamed at her. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Like a log. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.’ She laughed, though it wasn’t too far from the truth. For the first time in as long as she could remember she’d closed her eyes and her mind had switched off, which, thinking about it this morning, after what she’d shared with her new group of friends last night, not to mention seeing Lachie, was pretty amazing.

‘Must be the sea air,’ said Molly.

‘I think you’re right.’ Hannah smiled. Whatever it was, she hoped it hung around. ‘Thanks,’ she said, as Bear handed her a mug of strong, steaming tea and Daphne the Labrador moseyed over to her for a quick ear tickle before heading back to her bed.

‘What can I get you for breakfast?’ Maggie asked, pushing herself up.

‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble, but toast would be great. I’m happy to do it myself though.’

‘Don’t be daft, you’re our guest, we can’t have you doing that. Take a pew.’ Maggie headed to the Belfast sink to wash her hands while Lucy started on another soldier of toast.

With her toast devoured and a fresh mug of tea in her hands, Hannah headed outside to the garden, still wearing the pyjamas she’d picked up at the supermarket. She’d spotted a dressing gown she liked the look of, so had treated herself to that, too. She couldn’t have wished for a better start to the day. A handful of fluffy white clouds scudded across a bright blue sky, the sun spreading its glow over the sprawling fields of Thorncliffe Farm and Clifftop Cottage that sat within its curtilage. The temperature was crisp and energising. And don’t get her started on the view. From her vantage point in Maggie and Bear’s garden, she could see for miles. Over on the other side where the new part of town was located, the grand Victorian houses stood proud, overlooking the stretch of the bottom prom where the pier and the boarded-up café were located. Beyond that, further along the coast, the hazy outlines of industry, all sharp angles and straight lines, stood in stark contrast to the soft ripples of the sand and the sea. Closer by, were the characterful cottages of Old Micklewick, huddled together in the protective embrace of Thorncliffe.

Hannah breathed in a lungful of the cool, crisp air, releasing it in a sigh as she watched seagulls dipping and diving over the waves. Myriad thoughts were running through her mind, of what she’d told the lasses last night, of what she’d learnt about how Polly and her father’s marriage being fake, how Polly and Darryl were viewed, the warmth of the greeting from Jean Davenport, not to mention Mrs Stephens and Jennifer Cornforth. And then there was Lachie. What was he doing here? And was his presence enough for her to drop Auntie Coll’s plans? She wavered for a moment before an unexpected feeling of decisiveness took hold. She wasn’t going to scurry back to Beckinthwaite just because he was here in town, especially when, from what he’d told her last year, he clearly didn’t hang around in one place for long. She told herself she needed to push him from her mind and stay focused. Which was exactly what she intended to do.

‘Right then, here goes.’ Hannah and Maggie looked on as Bear took the bolt cutters to the first padlock and severed the metal arm as if he were slicing through butter. Hannah’s stomach flipped.

‘Well, that one didn’t put up much resistance.’ Bear unhooked the padlock and placed it on the floor. ‘Let’s see if it’s the same with the others.’

‘Well done, Bear,’ said Maggie.

As it turned out, he’d cut through the others with equal ease and the only thing left to stop them from entering the old café were the locks in the door. While Hannah fished out the keys, Bear gave the key holes a generous squirt of the WD40 he’d had the foresight to bring with him.

‘Right, Hannah, time for you to do the honours.’ He stood back, allowing her access to the door.

With a mix of apprehension and excitement bombarding her body, she slipped the key into the first lock and, after an initial bit of jiggling, it opened with a noisy ‘clunk’. The second one proved a little more difficult but with a bit of persuasion, it opened, too.

‘Right, moment of truth,’ she said, as she pressed down on the handle. It took a good few shoves for her to get the door to fully open thanks to a load of post that had accumulated before the letter box had been boarded up, but it finally gave way with a noisy creak. Stepping inside, her nose was instantly assaulted by a fusty smell. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the muted level of light. With the windows being boarded up, the only daylight came from the half dozen or so small roof lights that were covered in years’ worth of salty residue and seagull lime. All the same, it didn’t take long for her to realise the place was trapped in a distinctly lacklustre and characterless time warp.