She was about to fold the paper back up when something at the bottom of the right-hand column of the page caught her eye.
It was a small advertisement, outlined in bold black lines: Winter Guardian Required
Annie read on: Live-in guardian required as custodian of secluded beach apartment and small （closed） business premises over the winter months. This is an unpaid position and the custodian will be responsible for all utilities, but the rent is free.
The rent is free part was an enticing prospect for a woman with a serious cash-flow problem.
The ad gave no address or hint as to where this secluded beach might be, but it did list a phone number, and Annie began punching in the numbers before she’d fully registered what she was doing.
“Helloo!”
“Oh, hello,” said Annie. “My name is Annie Sharpe, I’m calling about the ad in the paper for a winter guardian?”
“Ach, how lovely!” said the woman. She had a strong Scottish accent and the kind of creamy voice that made you want to lie back and have her read you a story. “I’ve had that ad in the paper for over a month! You’re the first person to call. I was beginning to give up hope.”
“Well, I’m very interested in having a look, Ms. . . . ?”
“Mari, call me Mari,” she said. “And please, please do come and have a look. I’d said to myself, this is the last week I’m going to put the ad in, and if nobody calls then it’s just not meant to be.”
The apartment was at a place called Willow Bay, on account—according to Mari—of a smugglers’ ship called The Willow being sunk there in a storm in 1502. Annie was intrigued.
“When can I come to view?” asked Annie.
“Tomorrow?” said Mari.
“Perfect!” said Annie.
“Could you bring some ID, and could I ask you to e-mail me a reference, please?”
“Oh,” said Annie. “Yes, of course.” She was sure Marianne wouldn’t mind writing her a reference.
“And just a couple of bank statements, if you don’t mind, it’s just so that we know you’re financially able to cope with the job.”
“We?” asked Annie.
“My nephew and I,” said the woman. “He’s helping me with the details.”
* * *
—
When Annie arrived back at the hotel, the receptionists were changing shifts. The lady relinquishing her responsibility for the front desk smiled as Annie entered the lobby, and Annie saw that her name badge read Sally.
“Hi,” said Annie. “I’m Annie Sharpe. Thank you so much for the wine and chocolates. It was really kind of you. It was just the tonic I needed.”
“You’re welcome,” said Sally. “There’s not much that booze and chocolate can’t fix.” And then, emboldened by her foray into the world of flat hunting, Annie did something quite out of character.
“I’d like to buy you a drink,” she said. “Have you got to rush off?”
Sally beamed at her and backed her wheelchair out from behind the desk.
“There’s nothing that can’t wait!” said Sally.
* * *
—
The conversation flowed easily. Annie had already blurted most of the excruciating details of Max’s infidelity over the phone to Sally, so there was no need for polite coyness now.
Annie guessed that Sally was a bit older than her, with cropped dark hair and an elfin face. As they chatted, Annie discovered that Sally had been divorced twice and had a grown-up son and daughter. Her current partner was a wonderful woman called Susan, but neither of them was keen to go down the marriage route again.
“There is nothing quite like that feeling when you find out your beloved has cheated on you,” said Sally, as they settled into their second glasses of wine at the hotel restaurant. “It’s like being punched in the chest. Knocks the wind right out of you.”
Annie nodded. “And how stupid you feel!” said Annie. “Like, how did I not know? How did our greengrocer guess and I didn’t?”
“The greengrocer knew?”
“About the second one, yes. He kept seeing Max ducking in and out of the flat above the bank, from his shop window. He’d known my parents; I guess he felt loyalty bound to tell me.”
“I love a loyal greengrocer,” said Sally, which made Annie guffaw into her wine. “And yet you went back for more!” said Sally. “I kicked my first husband out the moment I found out. That was it. Over. Nobody does that to me.”