Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now? Annie messaged, feeling her eyelids drooping.
I’ll give it a try. Thank you, Annie.
What for?
Just thank you.
You’re welcome. Nite nite, John. Sleep tight xxx
Don’t let the bed bugs bite xxx
Chapter 74
The temperature dropped incrementally day by day and by the first week of December, Willow Bay had plunged headlong into winter. Sometimes Annie had to force herself out for her walk in the mornings, knowing that if she left it until after work, she wouldn’t go out at all. But the swimmers kept swimming—their joy seeming to increase as the weather grew colder—and the walkers and runners still made their daily commute to the coast, and against all the odds, business at the Saltwater Café remained steady.
Alfred had agreed to give the shelter a try, and even though she knew it was the right thing, Annie couldn’t shake the feeling that Willow Bay was losing someone special. Annie found herself making two dinners each night and leaving one for Alfred in the café. She made herself get up extra early to give him a hot drink before he left in the mornings; once on a night when the tide was out, she even tramped a thermos all the way down to the cove. He shook his head at her, chuckling his low grumbly chuckle as he took it, as though she were the eccentric. It was silly, she knew, but she wanted to feed Alfred up before he left. She had inherited the need to feed people from her mum, who couldn’t bear it if someone came into their home and didn’t leave feeling replete; this had been known to extend to the vicar, the boiler engineer, and the woman who came to check the electric meter. Watching her mum feed others was one of the reasons Annie had been so sure she wanted to be a chef.
As well as reading the books for the book club, Annie was working her way through Christmas novels with John at bedtime. It had become Annie’s favorite time of the day. They were currently reading Hercule Poirot’s Christmas. She would curl up in bed at an agreed time, with her book and her fully charged phone, and read in tandem with John. It was intimate, just for them, and she often fell asleep wishing that the night hours were longer.
It drives me crazy to think of that dastardly Mr. Knightley in your bedroom! John messaged when they’d finished discussing the abominable Simeon Lee.
Annie was suddenly wide awake and tingling in all the right places.
He is indeed dastardly! Annie replied. Particularly between the sheets!
Gaaaarrghhh! What’s wrong with me, I’m jealous of a dildo!
Annie laughed out loud.
Hahahahaha Well then let’s hope my stupid husband agrees to buy me out, so that I can buy you out, and you can come over here and usurp that wicked Mr. Knightley.
If he doesn’t pull his finger out soon, I’m going to drive to the Pomegranate Seed and shake the money out of him!
I’ll talk to him again. Let’s save the husband shaking as a last resort.
Chapter 75
The much anticipated Christmas festival celebrations were just hours away. The hob had been swallowed by two large catering saucepans, one containing a beef bourguignon and the other a rich vegetable and ale stew, which had been blipping contentedly on a slow simmer all afternoon. The Christmas tunes playing on a loop had spurred Annie and Gemma along as they cut out and baked enough sugar star cookies to sink the famous Willow.
John had been roped in to help Bill and Paul set the fires that would line the beach and act as both a beacon for ghost ships—mostly the ones that had been lured to the shallows by Willow Bay’s iniquitous forebears—and warming posts for chilly revelers. It seemed to Annie that the residents of Willow Bay spent a lot of time atoning for their ancestors’ misdemeanors. They were supervised in their endeavor by Emily, who had suspended her dislike of John for the sake of the festival and historical accuracy, and winked conspicuously at Annie every chance she got. Alfred lent a hand where needed. Only a handful of people knew that this would be his last day in Willow Bay, and that handful were determined—whether he liked it or not—to make it special for him.
Annie watched John wistfully as he worked. He was wearing old jeans and a knitted sweater with a Christmas tree motif and laughing and joking with Paul and Bill and even Emily. Though she knew they were doing the sensible thing by not becoming romantically involved, it didn’t stop the longing in her chest.
“He really likes you,” said Gemma, when she caught Annie looking out the window for the hundredth time.
“It feels like the fates are conspiring against us,” said Annie.
“Or maybe they’re just waiting until the time is right.”