“I’m surprised you’ve even heard of House Beautiful,” said Alex.
“I’ve seen it on your poncy velvet coffee table,” said Peter.
“That’s a footstool, you Neanderthal,” said Alex.
“You both have lovely taste,” said Annie, handing each of them a mug of coffee. “Life would be very dull if we were all the same.”
“That’s been your stock response to every argument since we were born,” said Peter, smiling. Alex grinned and took a swig of his coffee.
“And there is still barely a situation it doesn’t apply to,” said Annie. “Now, drink up and help Mummy move into her new bachelorette pad.”
Alex and Peter grimaced, and Annie laughed. Her heart felt so much lighter just from seeing them. In the spring, they would turn twenty-seven, and Annie found it hard to comprehend that she had children who were close to thirty years old, when in her head she was still twenty-four. Alex was a graphic designer and serial monogamist, living in a minuscule but trendy flat in Soho with Greg, the latest love of his life. Peter worked as a gardener at Eltham Palace and lived in a shared house in Greenwich. His girlfriends were so frequent and fleeting that Annie had stopped bothering to learn their names. Her sons were intelligent, successful men in their own right. But when they were together, particularly when they were with Annie, they seemed to revert back to their childhood selves, squabbling and sparring for her attention.
Although it didn’t take long to move in, lugging the boxes up the stairs to the flat several times over was a killer. Alex bitched and whined so much on his third ascent that Annie had considered gagging him with his linen scarf. Peter jogged up and down with apparent ease, which did nothing to promote good humor in his brother. At eleven o’clock, they stopped for a break, and Annie was grateful for the almond croissants. As it turned out, though, Mari had very kindly stocked the fridge with milk, cheese, bacon, ham, hummus, and tofu. The two drawers at the bottom of the fridge brimmed with vegetables and salad. A yellow Post-it note stuck to the top shelf read:
To get you started. Wasn’t sure if you were a normal person or one of those vegans, a lot of young people are these days, so I thought I’d hedge my bets!
By midafternoon, her clothes were hanging in the single wardrobe and the quilt—sewn by her mother—was draped over the small double bed. With her makeup and toiletries hidden away in the bathroom cabinet and a few framed photographs of the boys strategically placed, Annie put the kettle on the stove and surveyed her new home.
“Not bad, eh, boys,” she said.
“It’s perfect, Mum,” said Peter.
“Just the place to recoup and regroup,” said Alex.
“So, who’s for tea and bacon sarnies?” Annie asked.
“Sorry, Mum,” said Peter. “We’ve really got to get going.”
“I promised Greg a roast dinner after his rugby tournament,” said Alex. “And Peter’s got a date.”
“The ballerina didn’t make the cut, then?” said Annie.
Peter grinned sheepishly and shrugged.
“You know me, Mum,” he said.
Annie rolled her eyes.
* * *
—
Annie was always sad to see her boys leave, but today had been an unexpected bonus and so she couldn’t complain. Still, the flat felt empty now they weren’t filling the space with their long limbs and witty commentary.
Annie breathed in her new surroundings. The little flat was homey and welcoming, inviting her to rest her careworn bones within its cozy walls. Despite being alone in a new place, Annie felt safe in this little haven by the sea. It exuded a feeling of having been lived in and loved, and Annie had the notion that if she let it, this building would love her right back.
“Hello, Saltwater Nook,” she said, running her hand lightly over the bumpy walls. “I’m your new guardian.”
Chapter 15
The sun was high in the sky, glinting off the water like a million silver knife tips and pouring in through the sitting room window. Mari had left the flat spotless. Upon inspection of the cupboards, Annie found tins, chutneys, pearl barley, red lentils, and rice. Another Post-it note stuck to one of the cupboard fronts read:
There’s plenty of fish in the freezer downstairs. If you are a fish eater please use it. Ely calls once a week with his catch. You don’t have to buy, but I can never say no.
Intrigued, Annie made her way down to the cellar. Annie tugged the light pull and the low-arched-ceilinged cellar became dimly illuminated. A white salt line ran around the bottom two layers of stones in the wall. She had the sense that were she to lick the cold stone walls they would taste salty. She resisted the urge to test this theory, though she cooled her hot, red cheeks by turns against the cold stone and wondered about installing a chair and a lamp down here for when her perimenopausal hot flashes became too much to bear. The plug sockets were all placed above head height and the freezers and free-standing cupboards stood on brick-built perches, two feet off the ground. To the left of the staircase, a pile of sandbags gave away the location of the old tunnel entrance. The arched stone frame remained, but the middle had been filled with much newer red brick. Annie’s curiosity twitched to see the old smugglers’ tunnel beyond the wall.