A Season for Second Chances(8)

“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.”

“God, you’re so together,” said Annie.

“It’s not about being together,” said Sally. “It’s about knowing your worth. I was worth more than being cheated on. My mum drilled it into me as far back as I can remember, she always said, ‘Sally, people are going to try to take advantage of you because of your chair. Know your worth, my girl.’?”

“Your mum sounds amazing,” said Annie.

“She is,” said Sally. “Hard as nails and soft as play dough!”

“My family didn’t do divorce,” said Annie. “I mean, that’s not the only reason I stayed, but my mum and dad had me when they were much older and they were very religious; they believed for better or worse like it was an actual law.”

“Screw that,” said Sally.

Annie sighed and rubbed her temples.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It was just too complicated to leave Max. And I guess a part of me was too proud to admit that I’d failed.”

“You failed?” Sally spluttered. “This is classic learned behavior derived from societal misogyny.”

“Blimey!” said Annie.

“Unbelievable!” Sally was on a roll. “He breaks his vows, and you’re the failure? This is why we need feminism. Women have been programmed since the dawn of time to take responsibility for men’s failings. Stop shouldering the blame for your husband’s shortcomings. In fact, let me just take that from you right now.”