Kim Nash - The Cornish Cottage by the Sea

Baldwood presents The Cornish Cottage by the Sea, written by Kim Nash and read by Karen Cass.

Prologue.

How can people ever think of leaving here? This is just glorious. I don't think I've ever loved a place more. I couldn't drag my eyes away from the window, which overlooked the golden sandy beach of Sand Piper Shore, where the sea shimmerred in the midday sun. We had been watching Auntie June's next door neighbor move out that morning.

"Oh, trust me, Joe. This place always looks better when the sun shines. Remember, you've only ever been here for a holiday. When you live here permanently and it's chucking it down nonstop for the third week on the trot, you'll probably be glad to leave here, too."

Not even a little bit possible, I thought to myself. Even torrential rain of biblical proportions for 6 months solid wouldn't make me fall out of love with this fabulous cottage in this stunning village by the sea. People who didn't appreciate it fully didn't deserve to live in a place like this. Well, Auntie June, if you ever think about selling, make sure you let me know. I'd snap your hand off. Little did I know how a flip comment like that would be so very life-changing.

A huge turning point in my life occurred a good few years later, one gray, miserable, drizzly afternoon. Putting the bins out was the job I hated more than anything else. It was always Michael's job when we were married, and probably one of the only things he did around the house. Feeling incredibly sorry for myself and having a little tear at the realization that this was now my life, cursing the fact that now I was a divorcee and lived alone, I had to do everything myself. I was quite startled when my home phone rang. The fact that someone hadn't called my mobile should have set alarm bells ringing straight away.

"Hello, is that Joanna Jenkins?" I knew I recognized an accent, but couldn't quite put my finger on where from. Also, no one called me Joanna, unless it was someone official, which threw me right off.

"It is. Who is this, please?" I hoped it wasn't another marketing call. They were happening more and more these days.

"Hello, Joanna. My name is Rebecca Farington from Farington and Sun Solicitors in Sand by Pashore in Cornwall. I'm calling with two bits of news regarding a Mrs. June Cooper. I believe she was the aunt of your husband."

I sighed loudly. "Yes, that's right. June is Michael's aunt." Quite quickly, a penny dropped. "Oh, you said was."

"Yes. I'm sorry to be the one to inform you of the death of Mrs. Cooper, Joanna. She passed away a few weeks ago after a short spell in hospital."

"Oh, poor Auntie June. How sad. I didn't even know she'd been poorly. As you know, she is well was my husband's aunt." I could feel myself wittering on but couldn't seem to stop myself. "She never had children of her own, and I think I was the only one she ever got on with, and because of that, the only one who ever bothered with her really. We kind of lost touch over the last few years. Fiercely independent and wouldn't accept any help. Cut herself off from us all. Didn't want to be a burden to anyone in her old age, apparently."

I sat down on the stairs where I picked the phone up, feeling quite sad. I had really liked Auntie June and felt like we had a special connection.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Joanna. Mrs. Cooper left instructions for me to contact you should anything happened to her and talk to you about the property. Do you not mean Michael?"

"No, definitely you."

"Oh, okay. But in what way?" I couldn't even begin to imagine why she was contacting me about this, and it was scrambling my brain a little.

"Mrs. Cooper said in her letter that you'd always been very fond of her little cottage."

"Uh, yes, I was, although it's not so much of a little cottage. A blooming huge one with loads of outuildings, more like. I used to wonder how she got on rattling around in that big old place. Auntie June's home was absolutely glorious and in such a stunning location. I'd always loved Sandpiper Shore. When Michael and I were first married, we couldn't afford a honeymoon, so she let us come and stay with her. Then, when we had children, we never had much money, so we used to go for our family holidays. Sometimes, just me and my girls when Michael was busy working. Our time there was always so much fun, and she made us feel so welcome. We last visited five or six years ago, Michael and me. It was our anniversary and June was going on holiday and had asked us to look after the house for her. Over the years, she'd had extensive work done and she'd started converting one of the outbuildings into a holiday lot and had ambitious plans to do so much more with the rest of the property despite her age."

I frowned, still wondering what on earth this had to do with me. The solicitor continued as instructed by Mrs. Cooper. "The property has been valued and she wanted you to have it."

Confused. As Rebecca's words started to sink in, there were lots of things instantly worring around in my head. "What do you mean have it? I can't afford to buy a house of that size. At the moment, I can barely afford to live in the rented flat I own."

"She obviously hadn't heard of how well how my circumstances have changed since I last saw her."

"Ah, sorry, Joanna. I clearly didn't explain myself very well. She has willed the cottage to you on the strict condition that you move in."

"What? To me? Oh, God. Now, why on earth would she do something like that? And I have to move in." Much as I'd always said I wanted to live by the coast, it had always been a pipe dream, something that I could dream about, the reality was very different. "I can't possibly do that. I live miles away. I can't just drop everything and move to the seaside."

I ran my hands through my hair, catching sight of myself in the mirror opposite. Some days I didn't even recognize myself. Talk about a hot mess. Tear marked, mascara stained cheeks were not my greatest look. "I don't know what to say to be honest. Everything has changed since we last went to visit. It's my husband, you see." He despite trying to keep it down, I could feel a crescendo of upset overtake me, and I promptly burst into tears, not able to form the words to explain what had happened, though I did still try to apologize through the sobs.

"Look, Joanna, I've clearly called at a bad time for you. I have an email address here which Mrs. Cooper had written down." She read it aloud. "Is it still the same one?"

I nodded, then realized that I was on the phone and she couldn't see me. Some days I was quite ridiculous. Since I'd hit middle age, I seemed to have lost the ability to get my brain to work properly. Mental fog was real. I spluttered my affirmation instead. "Yes, the same one I've had for years."

"Right. Then I suggest you take some time to compose yourself and maybe have a little think. I'm well aware that this will have come totally out of the blue for you, too. I'll confirm everything in an email along with the conditions Mrs. Cooper stipulated. Please do read it carefully. She was very specific. June did say that she knew how fond of her home you were when she visited and that she would love to think of it going to someone who would give it back what it deserves. I'll ring you on Monday and see if you've had a chance to give it some consideration. No pressure at all, honestly, but I just wanted to let you know before the weekend."

Then she was gone. I stared at the phone in my hand, not quite believing what was happening.

As soon as I laid eyes on Auntie June's cottage, I had fallen totally and utterly in love with it. From the minute I walked on the shiny black and white tiles up the steps to the black glossed front door with its stunning stained glass encased under a brick arched porch, I'd felt a shiver run up my spine. Deceiving from the front. Once inside it went back and back, and the land outside was vast with many large outbuildings. When I saw the amazing views from the French doors and the wide sandy path that went straight onto the beach, I gave a huge sigh of envy. From its elevated position, looking down onto the dunes and out to sea, the house had captured a very special place in my heart. On our last visit, I had even commented that it had felt more like home than our own, much to my husband's disapproval. He couldn't understand that I loved this, in his words, rickety old cottage more than the modern home he had spent so much money on. In a strop, he declared that Auntie Jun's place was a complete hole and he wouldn't live there if someone paid him. His mood didn't improve when he had to drive back home and the M5 was full of stop start traffic nearly all the way. And when he realized that it had taken us 9 and 1/2 hours, he was furious. Happy anniversary to us.

A ping came from the phone to signify that I'd got an email, and sure enough, the solicitor had sent through the details. Luckily, my phone was connected to the printer, one thing that my daughters did sort out when they last visited, and I printed out the letter and put it on the breakfast bar. Whilst putting a load of washing in the machine, my mind was all over the place.

"Right, my lovely, let's feed you some lovely clothes, shall we?" I shook my head at myself. Chattering away to the inanimate appliances and objects I shared my house with was a habit I'd acquired since I'd lived alone and went for whole days not talking to another human. Some days seemed to last for 48 hours. Sadly, not in a I've got so much to do way, but in a oh god, is that all the time is way. I'd even resorted to buying and doing jigsaws to pass the time of day when I didn't feel like reading.

Preparing dinner, I realized that I hadn't told the solicitor the full story about Michael. My middle-aged memory was shocking these days. June was Michael's aunt, not mine, and when the solicitor knew that we weren't married anymore, everything would change. Maybe I wasn't destined to live anywhere but this little village in rural Staferture. I turned my thoughts back to what to have for dinner, trying to dismiss the idea of that beautiful cottage overlooking the dunes of Sandpiper Shore from my mind.

Chapter one.

They say that when you can't sleep, it's because you're awake in someone else's dream. Yet, I couldn't think of one person at all in the whole world who would be dreaming about me. Since my divorce, I had never felt more alone in my life. When I couldn't sleep, everything that was swirling around in my mind came back to keep me awake. Normally, my middle of the night thoughts were about how I'd managed to let my marriage stagnate to the point that my husband left me and how I'd missed all the signs. I must have been so stupid. The girls were also constantly on my mind, even though they were both living their best lives. I couldn't get the image of that gorgeous cottage with its big windows and view over the sand dunes out to sea out of my head. As I lay in bed, I couldn't help thinking that if I lived in Sandpiper shore, I'd get up and walk along the beach, even if it was chucking it down with rain.

Eventually, at 5:00 a.m., I decided to get up and make myself a cup of tea. It was a clear spring morning, and the birds were getting on my nerves, having the audacity to be singing loudly. I wasn't a great sleeper at the best of times these days. The bed felt like a huge space for one, and I missed the body heat from my husband. Although, at my time of life, it was my body heat that he'd always complain about. I was taking my mom to a routine doctor's appointment at 9:00 a.m. anyway, so may as well get a head start on the day. However, sitting in my lounge window, looking up the street, and contemplating life wasn't really inspiring me to do anything particularly exciting. Sometimes I felt like my life had completely stopped and that I didn't know how to live it anymore. While some people weren't even waking up and didn't have the option to live their life, I felt guilty that I felt like I was constantly bored and just missing something, not quite able to put my finger on what. Since Michael had gone and the girls had built their own lives, I had no purpose. It was nice that mom had asked me to take her to her appointment. It felt as if someone still needed me from time to time. As I grabbed my handbag and my car keys from the hook on which they were hanging in the hall, I wondered if mom felt the same when I left home, and whether she'd felt lonely, too.

Mom was ready and waiting on her porch when I pulled up, and I noticed that she'd got some lovely pots of vibrantly colorful plants outside the front door, which really brightened up her driveway. She'd been quite chatty since I'd picked her up, but my mind was all over the place. The waiting room was full, and we were squished into the remaining two chairs.

"Come on then, out with it." My mother gave me a look that only mothers can give.

"With what?"

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm fine, Mom. It's nothing. Just didn't sleep very well again."

"Is that because you've got something on your mind?"

"I'm fine, honestly."

"Well, tell your face that then. You look like a wet weekend in Wales." We both laughed, remembering a childhood holiday in real when it rained constantly for two whole weeks. We'd always refer to it when something was making us miserable. "Joanna Riddle Martin, I'm your mother, and you know I know you better than anyone. What's up?" I knew I was in trouble when she added my very unusual middle name into the mix. I'd never forgive her for blessing me with that. I constantly had the Mickey taken out of me at school, but she was right. She did know when something was troubling me.

"Do you remember Michael's auntie June?"

"Wasn't she that canankerous old Biddy that Michael couldn't stand?"

"Yes, but I never could understand why he said that about her. He really didn't like her. I got on with her like a house on fire." Mom raised an eyebrow. "Probably because she was someone that he couldn't manipulate. Anyway, what about her?"

"She died."

"Oh, that's a shame. Didn't she stop you all having anything to do with her?"

"Strangely, yes. She said she wanted us to remember her how she was and not as a little old lady incapable of looking after herself. Auntie June had been amazing. When we last saw her, she'd been booking herself on a Caribbean cruise. She must have been quite an age. She never would tell us her real age. Said she wanted to remain an enigma."

"Do you remember me telling you about her cottage? Mom, the one you fell in love with. The one by the dunes."

"That's the one. What about it?"

"She's left it to me. Mom's mouth dropped open. I continued. She has stipulated though that I have to live in it."

"Oh, that's wonderful news, Joe. I know how much you've always wanted to live by the sea." I was still trying to work out why this was happening, still sure that at some point the solicitor would realize that the situation with Michael meant that things had changed. "I had a call from a solicitor saying she'd willed it to me. You know how I always told her that I'd love her home? Well, she clearly didn't forget. I couldn't move there, could I? It's just so far away. I have you and the girls to think about, too."

"Why are you even thinking about the girls? They never come back anyway. I never did know why you didn't rent a smaller place with fewer rooms. It's so they could come and stay if they wanted to."

"And have they been back at all since you moved in 2 years ago?"

"Well, only once, but they've got their own lives now, darling. And to be honest, so have I. If you seriously want to move, you shouldn't let anyone else stop you. I might be 75, but there's a lot of life in this old dog yet, and life is too short to live it because of other people. If you did move, I could come and stay."

"That would be lovely. And just imagine living by the sea. You've always wanted to do that, Joe. You should do it before it's too late." This time it was my turn to frown. "I'm not being morlin, but it's true. Life is too bloody short to not do the things you want to do. What's the worst thing that could happen? If you don't like it, you could sell up and come back. Or there might be another way," I mumbled, which is," My mother turned her head to me sharply. "You could come with me."

I thought I'd put that idea out there. My mother threw back her head and laughed. "Darling, once children become adults, they should never live with their parents. There's a reason why children leave home, you know." We both laughed at this point. I had always had a fabulous relationship with my mom, which had grown even stronger over the years, and recently she'd been my absolute rock through the toughest of times. The breakdown of my marriage had been the hugest of surprises to me and a massive wakeup call. I'd never felt so low, and without her, I wasn't sure how I would have coped. The fact that I was adopted had never been hidden from me, and mom had always tucked me in at night, said she loved me to the moon and back, and said that I was more special than a birth child, because she'd chosen me. I never thought of her as anything but mom, and had decided at a very early age that no good would ever come of seeking out my birth parents. No one could have been a better mom than mine. I berated myself now for ever thinking of leaving her behind. But my mother was making me question myself.

"You should seriously do it, Joe. Without being rude, you're not getting any younger. And surely the last couple of years of your life since Michael left have taught you that you never know what is just around the corner."

"I get that, Mom, but I don't even know what state the house is in. The solicitor said it would need modernizing and I just don't have any spare cash. Maybe the universe is telling me that this is not my time."

"Well, you never know. Maybe the very clever universe has a plan for you that you're not aware of. Life can be full of surprises when you're not expecting them. On that note, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, too. You know Barry from my crib club? Well, it's like this."

Chapter 2.

I had dithered so much before making my final decision. Most of the very small number of friends I did have thought I was mad to sell up and move to the seaside. They said that just because my life had changed so drastically lately from being a busy parent of two and wife of one and now there was only me to consider, rash decisions still shouldn't be made. My two girls were completely and utterly horrified that I was even considering moving from the village they'd been brought up in. The place where they said all their memories of their family life together were made. the place that they had both visited just once in the last two years because they were too busy with their own lives to fit in a visit. But mom was right. They did have their own lives. Melissa had not long qualified as a doctor in a city hospital in Manchester and worked all hours and Lucy had become a vet in a country practice in Darbisha, recently engaged and in the throws of planning the wedding of the year. Even though neither were far away in miles, they were never around, and I'd found recent times really hard, and had honestly never felt so alone and so a drift in my life. But those days were over. I was fed up of wallowing. It was, in fact, time for me to grab life with both hands and move on. The fact that this was where all our memories were made was exactly the reason why I had to move away. After all, memories were in your heart, not within the walls of a building. It was time for me to grab life by the short and curies, and have an adventure of my own. Time to make new memories that no one could taint. And after mom had declared that she was, in her own words, going to be shacking up with Bazer from the crib club, it felt like the final sign that I should make a move.

"Close your mouth, darling," she'd said as I sat there stunned. "I have a right to a life, too, you know."

"I'm happy for you, Mom. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"Well, the fact that I've moved in with Baza means that I'll be selling my house, too, and I'd like to gift you £15,000 of your future inheritance. So, you can put it towards creating a new life for yourself." Mom was making an amazing gesture. I'd been forking out money on the forthcoming wedding like it was going out of fashion. Whilst £15,000 would come in incredibly handy, this was an offer that I wasn't comfortable accepting.

"I can't take your money, Mom. That's yours. You should be spending it while you can."

"I'm not asking you to take it, Joanna. I'm telling you that you are taking it. I have a little set aside for the girls, but I'd rather you have it while I'm here, so I can see you enjoying it and living your dream. You deserve this, darling. I am doing it anyway, so it can either sit in your bank or it can go towards your house by the sea." I wasn't sure whether her telling me about the money was to throw me off the story about Barry, but the more I thought about it, the more she was right. Life was short, and maybe we did all deserve a second chance at life. She was pretty inspirational, turning her own life around after my father had died years ago.

"Are you sure, Mom? This seems awfully generous."

"You are my one and only daughter. I've never been sureer of anything in my life."

"Well, in that case, thank you." I threw my arms around her as tears rolled down my cheeks. I'd longed for a house by the sea for years. I'd been within touching distance of a holiday home that Michael and I had found before it was all snatched away. Now, finally, my dreams came first and were coming true. While it was a good thing, a great thing even, I felt totally and utterly overwhelmed.

When Rebecca Farington phoned me back as promised, I said that I would love to take her up on her offer. I'd never done anything so spontaneous, and at the same time as being exciting, it absolutely scared the living daylights out of me. And that was how I ended up in Cornwall in the cottage that I'd always adored. The memories that flooded back to me were quite mind-blowing. The years we'd spent there with the children when they were growing up, our picnics on the beach in all weathers, determined to enjoy our holidays. Our last time there had been for our 20th wedding anniversary. Getting Michael away from the business was a trial in itself. He worked longer hours at that point than he ever had, telling me that I didn't understand that in this day and age it was needed to keep up with the competition. In return, I had told him that if he didn't try and get some time away now, he'd be dead before our long planned 25th wedding anniversary trip of a lifetime holiday to the Moldes that we'd been saving for. The one that never happened.

Chapter 3.

As I stood on the slimy algae covered decking at the side of Auntie June's cottage, I realized how ridiculously stupid I'd been. not to have visited before packing up my worldly possessions and moving here for good. I had never thought that in the 5 years since we visited last a place could be so very different. Long gone were the beautiful sparkling clean windows that looked out over the beach. In their place were damaged window panes with condensation that had somehow crept between the double glazing and frames that were literally falling out. The moldy patch on probably very dangerously damaged floorboards and the wallpaper hanging down along with the bin that was half full of murky, stinky water signified that there was a leak somewhere in the flat roof above the dining room window. Those were just a couple of the minor issues that I'd discovered when I got hold of the keys to my dream home that morning. Knowing the house as well as I did, I hadn't felt the need to visit before I signed all the paperwork. The irony that Michael would have been horrified at what I'd done didn't escape me. There was now an overwhelmingly gigantic list of things that needed doing that were starting to form in my mind, and some, I reckoned, were way bigger than a leak. The one major thing that I had forgotten was the vastness of the buildings and land. It was way larger than I ever remembered, and we'd only really stayed in a few of the rooms, though I did remember there being a lot of paraphernalia. We'd both commented to each other at the time that June seemed to be a bit of a hoarder, but since the previous time I'd been there, it would appear that she'd taken it on as an Olympic sport. I'd seriously never seen so much stuff in my life. It needed a hell of a clear out, as well as a lot of doing up. I was finding so many doors leading to more rooms and cupboards that I thought it had be weeks before I discovered them all. The rooms were all huge with high ceilings and cornising around the tops of them which were also in dire need of attention. Looking up at the cottage from the decking now, I noticed that the gutters on the outside of the property were sprouting things. They didn't look like they'd been cleared out for a long time. Poor Auntie June had clearly been struggling for a while, and after all, she had been a grand old age when she died. How on earth could an old woman keep on top of a house the size of this? The solicitor had said that she'd been very healthy up until those final weeks, and didn't bear any malice towards anyone that she was alone. She was widowed when she was a young woman, and never did marry again. She swore that she'd already lost the love of her life, and wouldn't ever meet anyone like her. her Alfie, so she wouldn't even bother trying to. I berated myself now for not making an effort to keep in touch more. It was so sad to think she died alone. My life had been busy looking after Michael and the girls, and I was incredibly sorry to think that I'd neglected her. On paper, I wasn't really her family anyway. She was Michael's aunt, and his side of the family had never bothered with her. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted to do her beautiful home justice and bring it back to life. I knew I was up for a challenge in this new life of mine, but certainly hadn't realized quite how much of a task it was going to be. A fuzzy little feeling in my stomach, I grabbed a notebook and pen from my handbag and started to make a list of what needed doing. It was going to be a very long list.

The shrill tone of my phone ringing made me jump and my heart sank when I saw the name on the screen. Trouble was, if I ignored his call, he'd just keep on calling, knowing how annoying he could be and how I'd eventually answer. I may as well answer it the first time and get it over and done with.

"Michael, hello, darling. How are you?" How my ex-husband had the gaul to still call me darling after everything that had happened never ceased to amaze me.

"Okay, thanks. How are you?" I could have kicked myself as soon as the words left my mouth. I really wished that instinct and politeness, even after everything that had happened, hadn't taken over because I knew just how much detail he'd go into. I should have just left it at okay, thanks.

"I'm fabulous, thank you. The sun is shining here in the Costa del Soul. And we're just sitting around the pool having lunchtime drinky poos. We're off out for a meal this afternoon to that lovely place up in the mountains. You know, the one where they do the pelia that you raved over. You'd love it here."

"Yeah, I would have done because I bloody chose it." My darling husband was talking about the house just outside of Marba that we'd very lovingly chosen and fitted out together. However, instead of me being the co-owner of our gorgeous holiday home in the sun, he had moved there with Claudia, his personal assistant, who had clearly been giving him more than just secretarial support for longer than I cared to know. Not only that, but she'd also been my very best friend in the whole wide world. How insensitive could an ex-husband be?

"The weather is glorious. The pool is a fabulous temperature and we're having a lovely time. Thank you. Claudia sends her regards." Clearly more insensitive than I originally thought. Tosser. How can you be in love with someone one minute and then hate their guts within a very short space of time? Sometimes life seems so mad when you think about how quickly love turns to hate. And at a time when most women would have turned to their best friend to confide in, I couldn't do that because the person he'd gone off with was her. So I'd lost two of the most significant people in my life, not just one.

"What do you want, Michael? I'm busy."

"Oh, sorry, darling. I wondered if you could tell me what the password is for the Wi-Fi. I know it was on a little card somewhere by the router, but I can't bloody find it for the life of me. And the world will come to a standstill if I can't get on the internet. As you know, a smart house is only smart if it has Wi-Fi. We had to sit in the dark last night because I couldn't operate the lights." I tried not to snigger at this.

"Oh, that's a shame. I'm so sorry, though, Michael. I don't know. And if that's all, I have to go. I'm in the middle of something quite important. Bye."

I disconnected the call and smiled to myself, safe in the knowledge that in a fit of rage one day, I'd changed the Wi-Fi password online, so even if they found the card with the code on, it wouldn't work. I flicked the TV back on, tucking my legs underneath me. It would be ages before they discovered what a calculating cow I could actually be when I wanted to, and how much they deserved it.

Chapter 4.

Now that I was down here, I was determined that I would walk along the seafront at every opportunity, even if it wasn't the best of weather. I would never take it for granted. No point being by the sea and not making the most of it, especially when it was dry. There was so much to do at Junes, and I had no idea where to start. So instead, as the sun was starting to peek out from behind the gray clouds, I grabbed my Gilelay and decided that I'd take myself for a walk. Half of me wanted to curl up and acclimatize myself to my new surroundings before I put myself out there. The other half thought I wasn't going to meet new people and make new friends if I didn't leave the house. As I walked along the prominard, which led along the beachfront, I took a deep breath in. There weren't many people around, so it was perfect to have a good nose around. Familiar with the streets from my last visit, I noticed that in just a few years, things had changed quite significantly. Old businesses had closed down and new ones had opened up. There was a small supermarket on the junction of the roundabout opposite the lifeboat station, and I decided that was a good place to visit. I could pop in, have a mooch about, and see how the land lay, see if anyone spoke to me, so I headed in that direction.

The shop was reasonably quiet when I arrived. Meandering around the aisles, I threw some chocolate in the basket, which I canled out with a prepared bowl of salad. I then thought I'd treat myself to a bottle of bubbly to celebrate my dream coming true. It was extravagant, but it wasn't every day you started a new adventure like this one. As I approached the counter to pay, I noticed a basket at the front with some marked down items, and right on the top were a couple of Cornish pasties and some monkeyl looking turnips and carrots. They wouldn't have them there if there was something wrong with them, I thought to myself. They were probably just oddlooking because I wasn't used to farm shop quality. I even thought of getting a couple and putting them in the freezer.

A cough to the left signified that I was no longer alone. And as I turned, I was approached by a little old woman. As our eyes connected, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"How odd. You planning to buy them?" she asked. I dithered. I didn't want to take these from a pensioner who might not be able to afford to pay full price when I'd got a bottle of expensive champagne in my basket.

"I was, but I'm very happy for you to have them. I'm sure I can find something else for my tea instead." I smiled at her and received a stare that Paddington Bear would have been proud of.

"But they're for the pegs?" the woman exclaimed.

"The pegs?" I repeated.

"Yes, dear. The pegs?" The woman looked at me like I'd gone mad.

"Oh, right. The pegs." Still totally unsure of what the woman was telling me, I thought it better to just agree. Maybe I'd managed to connect with the only mad old woman in the village. Just my luck. All of a sudden, the woman started running over to the till area of the shop, snorting as she moved. With what I could feel was a horrified expression on my face, I looked over at the shopkeeper, who had now appeared behind the counter. Judging by the grin on her face, she was clearly finding this all quite amusing.

"Pegs. The pegs. Oink oink. You don't want to eat that old food, my darling. It's on the counter for the pegs. It's the stuff that's way out of date in the shop can't sell. You don't want to be eating it, lovely. You'll have the shits for weeks. Everyone around here knows that." The penny finally dropped.

"Ah, you mean pigs?"

"Yes, pigs. That's what I said, didn't I?" She grabbed the pasties from my hand and put them into her own basket, handing it to the shopkeeper. "Tessa, where are your manners? We have a newbie in town. Wait your turn."

"No, it's fine. Honestly, I'm happy to wait." When the shopkeeper had bagged up the outofdate items into a couple of carrier bags that the old woman had handed over, after staring at me for an uncomfortable period of time, she grunted, shook her head, and shuffled out of the shop. Only then did my heart rate start to return to normal.

"You must be the new lady that's moved into Coup's old house."

"I smiled. That's me." I offered the shopkeeper my hand to shake, but it was refused and she told me to bear with as she walked away from the counter towards the back of the shop. While waiting, I clocked the notice board by the counter and saw that there were a lot of local businesses advertising their trades. That might come in handy sooner than later. I also noticed an advert for a craft club in a cafe on the high street. I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket and snapped a couple of photos. Maybe a craft club would be a good place to meet some of the locals. They had a website so I'd have a mooch at it when I got some free time. A minute or two later, the shopkeeper was back wiping her hands on her jeans to dry them and reached out to me with a firm handshake.

"Let's start again. So, I'm Mary, born and bred in town, and this shop has been in our family for years. You've obviously met Tessa, otherwise known as Dame Tessa. Yes, believe it or not, she's a dame. Story goes that she was given a medal to thank her for some sort of hush- hush work she did in the early '7s, but she never speaks about it. She's as mad as a box of frogs, but completely harmless. Her heart is in the right place, and she'd do anything for anyone if they needed her to. She lives at the big old farmhouse at the top of the cliff, and keeps herself to herself most of the time. She has a small holding, hence the uh pegs." We both laughed. "I honestly don't know how she does it all, but she refuses the help that we in the village offer her and always says she's fine. She and June were as thick as thieves and always helped each other out. Never would have put the two of them together, but they were the best of friends for many years. She must be lost without her."

"Oh, that's so sad. But how lovely to have lifelong friends like that." This made me think about the very small number of friends I did have and none in this area. Maybe Mary could be a friend in time and even introduce me to other locals.

"Nice to meet you, Mary. I'm Joe. Joe Jenkins. Welcome to our lovely little town. You've certainly got your work cut out in that old house, haven't you? Are your family here with you?" I had forgotten how intrusive small communities could be, but decided in for a penny, in for a pound. People would get to know that I was here on my own after a short while. So, while I still found it difficult to say out loud, I decided to get it over and done with.

"No, it's just me, newly divorced and ready to start a new chapter of my life." I smiled.

"Blime me, that's a big old house for one."

"It is. It'll surely keep you busy, my dear. It was such a lovely old place. Such a shame that June let it deteriorate over the last couple of years."

"Yeah, I didn't quite realize that had happened when I agreed to live here. The first time I ever saw the cottage years and years ago, I fell head over heels in love with it. So, I didn't even bother to come and see it before I moved here. God, I sound like such an idiot. But all the reports came back to say it was structurally sound."

"Ah, yes. Structurally sound and livable are two very different things, I expect. But there's lots of builders around that should be able to help you. I'm sure you'll have it looking fabulous again in no time. Houses are like husbands. When you know you've met the right one, you just know." I smiled, not wanting to tell her how topical I thought her sentence was. I thought Michael and I would be together forever. I hoped I would have more luck with this house.

"It's a pleasure to have you, my dear. I hope you'll be very happy here."

As I walked away from the shop, clutching my handbag to me, the shopping bag swinging by my side, I could hear the sound of the bottle of champagne clanking away against the rest of my shopping. I approached the cottage and sighed. Long gone was that chocolate box image of a gorgeous seaside abode, and in its place was a tatty, run-down ruin in desperate need of a lot more than a jet wash and a lick of paint. But even more than that, some love and attention. After the few months that I had recently had, I realized that the cottage wasn't the only one in need of those things.

Chapter 5.

Before I walked back to the house, I decided to cross the road and sit on the beach wall and just take in my new surroundings. Still quite overwhelmed by the fact that this was my new life, I hadn't noticed that there was a man sitting just a little further up the wall. When he raised his travel mug at me, he caught my eye.

"Afternoon." My first thought was that no one left you alone here. Everyone spoke to you. But I couldn't complain because back at home, I went for days without seeing a soul. It would take some adjusting to. But I needed to embrace it and make as many new contacts as possible along the way. Mom had given me a pep talk before I moved here, saying that every new person you encounter could either be or know just the person that you need to meet.

"Good afternoon," I replied. "Lovely day it's turned out to be."

"It has. It's a funny old place where you get all seasons in one day. Not seen you around Sand Piper Shore before. You're here on holiday." I had forgotten that in a small place where everyone knew everyone else, a stranger in town was probably one of the most interesting things to happen.

"I've just moved here actually literally this morning."

"Ah, then you must be the lady that's moved into Coup's old house." I smiled. Seemed like everyone knew June.

"That's right."

"Blime me. You've got a drum and a half on your hands."

"I do, but I've always loved a challenge," I answered.

"Hope your husband is good with his hands."

"I beg your pardon."

"Hope your husband is good at repairing stuff. You are going to need a lot of work doing up there." I sighed. People still assumed that if you were a certain age, then you were in a couple.

"Is your wife good at cooking?" I replied, feeling quite prickly.

"No, she's dead."

"Oh, Christ. I'm so sorry."

"No need. She was a right old cow." I smiled and my eyes met the man's as he winked at me. "Sorry, love. Didn't mean anything by talking about your husband. Ah, that's okay. I'm just feeling a little bit oversensitive today. I'm here alone, actually." I sighed. "Just me." It had taken me a while to get used to saying that. For nearly 25 years, I had been part of a couple and a family. The structure and dynamics of the family had changed significantly to something I didn't even recognize, and I was still adapting.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" He nodded to the view. I looked out towards the horizon and took in the cloudless blue sky, the twinkly sea, and the golden sand. And once more, the feeling of peace in my heart suddenly felt quite overwhelming. I turned my face to the sun, feeling the warmth on my face, and sighed loudly. "It really is."

A comfortable silence fell. "Do you live here?" I asked after a while, finding myself intrigued by this friendly stranger.

"I do. Been here for more years than I wish to count. I was an engineer all my working life. Hated it. But my old dad used to say that if you had a job that you could do for 40 odd years or more, you could eventually retire and live the life you want. When my wife died, I knew I couldn't face the 10 years I had left until my retirement day, doing the same thing day after day and being alone." He took a deep breath and stared out to see. I looked to see what he was looking at, but there was nothing there apart from maybe his memories. After the long pause, he continued, "I had always loved nature and as a boy used to mess around in the woods. Bloody loved it I did. I felt an unexplainable pull to do something different and knew that I wanted or probably needed to be immersed in nature. So I did all that I could to come to Cornwall and be by the sea. So I bought a ramshackle old bungalow that my son helped me do up."