EARLY JULY
Ana
‘Oh, I like this,’ Ana said, as she stepped inside 23 The Strand. ‘It’s not small.’ Ana had looked up ‘chalet’ in her Romanian/English dictionary and had been expecting something like a garden shed. But this was lovely – all fresh and bright, and very clean, and with an uninterrupted view of the sea. ‘Very nice.’
She couldn’t help smiling, despite the things that had happened in her life to bring her here – her early, but no less sad, miscarriage, Vasile’s desertion, poorly paid jobs that meant she felt her life was going nowhere. And then she laughed out loud because she realised she’d been talking out loud, to herself, and in English. English! How good was that! It meant she was acclimatising, didn’t it? Well, after seven years she would expect that, but it had been hard. At first she’d mixed only with people from her own country. Some of them had lived here for a long time and spoke English well; they helped Ana fill out forms so she had been slow to learn these things for herself. But she was learning now. And she had no Romanian friends in this area so surely that would help to improve her language skills further.
Brought up in the Romanian countryside it had always been Ana’s dream to live by the sea.
‘I am here now,’ Ana told her reflection in the rope-framed mirror on the wall behind the couch. ‘My first time by the sea.’ Ana had seen the sea before, of course, but only glimpses from the plane when she’d arrived, or when she went on a day trip with people she’d worked with. Or Vasile. ‘I have waited twenty-seven years for this.’
There had been no sea near the places she had worked in Birmingham, and London, and Bristol. There had been rivers and canals there, and she’d loved to walk along them. But the sea was different. It seemed, to Ana, to be full of the promise of journeys yet to be made, and people yet to meet. She would telephone her mother tonight and let her know she’d arrived safely. And when she had a permanent address, not just this chalet at 23 The Strand, she would let her have it.
Her mother was always writing to her to say ‘come home’ – she was ill, she was lonely, she had no money. Ana knew the last was all lies because she sent money on a regular basis. So did her brother, Andrei, who had gone to Paris to find work and was now the manager of a small café off the Champs-Élysées. Ana also knew her mother wasn’t ill because she texted her sister, Izaura, every Saturday, who said their mother was well and had been baking, and that after scrubbing and polishing the house from one end to the other, and cleaning out the chickens. And her mother wasn’t lonely either, because Izaura lived with her, and the neighbours were always popping in for drinks now her mother had money sent on a regular basis from England and France to buy them. It was Ana who was ill and lonely and had no money… well, not no money, because she did have a few hundred pounds in a building society account, but very little because she sent so much back to her mother in Romania. And she had no computer now because Vasile had taken it – they’d shared that, like they’d once shared a lot of things. But she had her laptop. She’d almost left that behind in Bristol because it was heavy, but she knew it would be useful for finding jobs in the area online.
Ana wasn’t seriously ill either, just sick in the heart. Vasile, whom she’d met when she worked in a hotel near Paddington Station and with whom she’d fallen in love, and who had declared his undying love for her, had decided to ‘move on’, as he put it. Ana’s English was much better now than it had been when she’d arrived but she didn’t know what ‘move on’ meant. The lady – Jean – who was in charge of housekeeping at the hotel in Clifton, Bristol, where Ana worked explained the ‘bottom line’ was that Vasile didn’t love Ana any more and was going in search of someone else, if he hadn’t already found them. Ana knew what ‘bottom line’ meant – it was the end of her relationship with Vasile.
Ana stood by the bedroom window in the chalet and looked out to sea. She allowed herself to think about Vasile for a moment, although mostly she did her best to banish him from her mind.
‘If only I had the baby now,’ she said, just so she could hear the words and remember that once she had carried a baby inside her. For almost four months she had carried that baby and felt her body change, her tummy swell just a little. The baby – hers and Vasile’s. When she’d told Vasile she was pregnant he’d looked horrified. Said a baby wasn’t in his plan. It hadn’t been in Ana’s plan either but she knew what her responsibilities were. It was from that moment that she felt Vasile draw away from her – he came in late, he left early, he didn’t kiss her hello and goodbye as he had before and there was no waking with his arms wrapped around her in the morning.
And then the baby had died inside her. Ana went alone to the A&E department at the hospital. Vasile said he was too busy, and anyway, if she couldn’t carry a baby properly… he’d left the rest of his thoughts unsaid but Ana knew what they would be. It was her fault, in Vasile’s mind, that she couldn’t hold a baby inside her for the full nine months.
The doctors and nurses were all very kind but there was, they said, nothing they could do for the baby. One nurse even gave Ana a huge hug.
‘I shouldn’t be telling you this,’ the nurse had said, ‘but I know how it feels. It hurts, doesn’t it? In the heart.’
Ana had nodded. When the nurse pulled out of the hug Ana saw there were tears in her eyes. She knew, this nurse, because it had happened to her, hadn’t it?
If only the baby had lived, at least she would have it to hold, to care for, and to love. Her body had recovered from the miscarriage and Ana hoped that, in time, her heart would recover too. But she was alone now and she was lonely. Very lonely. She had given herself a little holiday and two weeks to find somewhere permanent to live by the seaside. And a job. She would need a job. Ana had thought hard about where to go and come to the decision that the seaside would have lots of hotels, and she knew about working in hotels even if it was only making and changing the beds and clearing up after guests and cleaning the toilets. She didn’t think she wanted another job where she had to clean toilets but… well… if that was all there was, she would do it. And cafés. There would be lots of cafés. She hoped her English was good enough to take orders and serve cake and coffee – latte, cappuccino, Americano, macchiato; she knew all those words.
Just thinking about coffee made her want one now.
‘Oh.’ Ana put a hand to her mouth in surprise. On the worktop, beside the microwave in the tiny kitchen, was a photo frame with a note on top of it. Should she touch it? Or should she take it to the lady in the information centre who had given her the key to 23 The Strand? It said ‘New occupant’ on the envelope.
‘I am the new occupant,’ Ana said, just so she could believe herself. She lifted up the envelope. ‘Oh.’ A framed painting. A very small painting about the size of a postcard. Should she put it on the wall? Was that what she was supposed to do? A shiver snaked its way up Ana’s spine, and rippled out across her shoulders. She was unsure what to do. Vasile would know because his English was almost perfect now. Ha. Of course. It was all those English girls he’d been seeing when he’d told Ana he was working late who had taught him, wasn’t it? She picked up the painting and held it out in front of her. She stepped out onto what the lady in the information centre had called a deck and told her she mustn’t have barbecues on.
‘Of course. It’s the view from here, isn’t it?’
Ana laid the painting down on the table on the deck and went back for the envelope. There was a letter inside.
‘Written in stone?’
What was that? What did it mean? Ana knew what a stone was. She had a feeling ‘written in stone’ was a bit like ‘move on’ and ‘bottom line’ and had a hidden meaning. If only she had someone to ask.
Well, she would have to find someone, wouldn’t she? If Ana understood correctly she would be expected to leave something for the next new occupant and she didn’t want to not do that if that was what was expected.
‘Thank you, Lucy,’ Ana said, picking up the painting. ‘I will keep you. And tomorrow I will start to look for work. And then a place to live.’
Rain. Ana hadn’t expected rain, not here at the seaside. When she had booked 23 The Strand (on her laptop back in the hotel in Bristol where she’d worked, with the help of Jean) it said this was the English Riviera. Ana had expected palm trees, and yes, there were plenty of those all along the main road where she’d got off the train and taken a bus. And boats. And stalls selling ice cream. And penthouse flats. Jean had explained what a penthouse flat was when Ana had seen one with a wall of sliding glass doors and a balcony overlooking the sea for rent and thought it looked wonderful. But it was far too expensive.
‘I must go out,’ Ana said. It helped her to feel less lonely to talk out loud. ‘I have a raincoat and I have an umbrella.’
She must be careful, though, not to spend too much money.
‘Maybe just a coffee,’ she said. ‘And a pastry.’
Ana found it difficult to resist a buttery pastry. And didn’t her hips let her know it! When she’d been to the doctor with an infection on her chest the doctor had furrowed her brow at Ana and said, ‘And losing some weight, Miss Dumitru, will help. About three stone.’
‘Perhaps just one pastry,’ Ana told herself, as, suitably dressed against the rain, she locked the door of 23 The Strand. ‘And then I will live on salad and vegetables but not chips.’ There seemed to be chips with everything in England and she found those difficult to resist too.
‘Good morning!’ a cheery voice called out as Ana began to walk along the promenade. She looked about to see who the voice might be talking to. There was no one but her.
Ana looked in the direction the voice had come from. An old lady – well, she looked old with her white hair and thin body, and her stick-like legs – was sitting under the shelter of an awning on the deck of Number 19 The Strand, with a shawl around her shoulders, knitting.
‘Good morning,’ Ana said.
‘You don’t want to be out in this, ducks,’ the woman said.
Ducks? She is calling me a duck? Ana was confused now.
‘I look for work,’ Ana said. She stopped walking. It seemed rude to walk on when someone was being friendly to her.
‘Work? But you’re on holiday. You’re at Number 23, yes?’
‘Yes. Number 23. But I must find work. I have two weeks.’
‘And then? What if you don’t find any?’
Ana shrugged. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Go back to Bristol and see if she could get her old job back at the hotel? See if she could live in there until she found somewhere else to live that wouldn’t have memories of Vasile in it?
‘I will find work,’ Ana said.
‘Where’ve you come from then?’ the woman asked.
‘Yesterday, I came from Bristol. Before that from Romania. I am English citizen now.’
‘Well, I’ll let you carry on, ducks. You’re getting wetter by the second standing there while I natter on.’ And the woman resumed her knitting.
Ana thought she detected that the woman’s attitude had changed when she’d said she was from Romania. But maybe not. After losing the baby and Vasile walking out of her life she’d had her emotions more than a little dented, hadn’t she?
‘Oh, my goodness. Come in, sweetheart. You’re like a drowned rat.’
A man who reminded Ana of her grandfather back in Romania – and just as big with his huge stomach – held wide the door of The Port Light. Ana hadn’t intended to go into the café but the man had opened the door and beckoned her inside as though he’d been expecting her.
Ana stepped inside. It smelled of bacon cooking. And coffee.
‘Have you work?’ she asked.
‘Work?’
‘Yes. Work I can do.’
‘Ah, do I detect a slight accent there?’
Ana’s shoulders went up towards her ears and she sighed. She was proud of being Romanian but her life might be easier if her accent were less pronounced.
‘Yes. I am from Romania but I am English citizen and I look for work. I have papers.’
‘Well, that’s all right then,’ the man said. ‘You being an English citizen. You’ll be okay for work, if you can find some that is. Everyone wants to work down here in the summer in the sunshine – when we get some! So, what will it be? Tea? Coffee? Chocolate?’
Which was the cheapest? Ana scanned the prices board behind the counter. Ah, tea. £1.25. She could spare that much and the man had been so kind. He’d seen her coming along when he’d been wiping down a table and opened the door to her, calling her in. The least she could do was buy a cup of tea from him. Especially as he had no other customers. But a diet starts today, not tomorrow, so she wouldn’t ask for a pastry.
‘A cup of tea, please,’ Ana said. ‘No…’ Oh. What was the English for lapte? How could she have forgotten such a simple word? A word she used every day in the hotel when she replaced the welcome tray with coffee and tea, sugar and… what? Perhaps it was the wind and the rain making her muddled in the head. Ah, she remembered now. Milk. The English word was ‘milk’. ‘No milk.’
‘Black tea it is, then,’ the man said. ‘You say “black tea” if you don’t want milk in it.’
‘Black tea,’ Ana repeated. She would remember that. She’d always said ‘no milk’ before and no one had ever corrected her.
‘Got it in one, sweetheart,’ the man said.
‘And no sugar, thank you.’
‘Blimey, you’d be cheap to keep. Save me a fortune on milk and sugar, you would. Take a seat. Any seat. Big choice of seats today.’ He waved an arm around his empty-but-for-Ana café and laughed. ‘I’ll bring it over in a minute.’
Ana went over to a table for two by the window and sat down. Rain slithered down the glass and when she looked out to sea it was as though she had double vision, and everything was blurred. Not a good start to her search for a new life, was it? Ana bit her bottom lip. So far she’d only met two old people… was there no young life in this place? She remembered something Jean had said when she’d told her she was moving to the seaside. Devon.
‘God’s waiting room,’ Jean had laughed. ‘All sat in shelters facing the sea waiting for the call.’
Ana had laughed with her, not fully understanding what Jean meant. But there were shelters facing the sea, although she hadn’t seen a soul in any of them on her walk along the promenade. Had Jean meant that the place was full of old people waiting to die, to go to be with God?
‘What,’ Ana asked when the man brought over her tea, ‘does “God’s waiting room” mean?’
‘Eh? You’re a rum ’un! Funny question. It means people nearing the end of their natural, knowing it’s not worth buying green bananas ’cos they might not live long enough to see ’em ripen.’ He guffawed loudly and Ana struggled to translate what he had said into her native tongue. Banana was the same in both languages. Ripen was coace. Natural was also the same in both languages. Green was verde in Romanian but bananas weren’t green, were they? But none of it was making sense in either language to Ana now.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand one hundred per cent what you say.’ Ana knew she would have a little pleat of worry lines between her eyes.
‘Sorry, sweetheart. I’m teasing you. The thing is, I’m just glad to have a bit of company, and a bit of young company at that. I’m Fred, by the way. And you are…?’
‘Ana. Ana Dumitru. I look for work. You have work?’
‘If only I could offer you some, sweetheart,’ Fred said. ‘As you see, I’m hardly rushed off my feet today. If I don’t get a good summer – and this one has been so-so so far – then the winter can be pretty grim for me. I’ll be on bread and water till Easter comes round again and the place fills up.’
Bread and water? Ah, he meant he would be poor in the winter with no customers, didn’t he?
Ana’s stomach rumbled noisily and she blushed, embarrassed. She’d had no breakfast. Nothing to eat since midday the day before, in fact.
‘Blimey, sweetheart,’ Fred said. ‘That was like a dragon getting ready to breathe fire that was. I’d better fill you up then, hadn’t I?’
Ana was totally confused now. Dragon? Breathe fire? Fred was a friendly man, smiling despite the fact he might have a hard time in winter, but Ana was struggling to keep up with what he was saying, to understand.
She looked around his café and saw three wooden high-chairs for babies and toddlers lined up against the wall, and a pang of loss that she now wouldn’t have a baby to sit in a high-chair swamped her, almost as fast and furious and all-consuming as a tsunami on her soul.
‘Get this down you, sweetheart,’ Fred said, coming back with a slice of something Ana didn’t recognise. Pastry with jam and then cake and some nuts on top.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t have enough money for cake.’
‘It’s called Bakewell tart. And I don’t want paying for it.’
‘Thank you,’ Ana said. ‘But I’m not a beggar lady. I will work for what I have.’
‘I know you’re not, and I know you will. But I’m a soft touch where a pretty girl down on her luck is concerned. I’ve got three girls of my own and my youngest has had no end of rotten luck and she’s like you – proud. Works her skin to the bone sometimes, she does, and still stuff happens, as they say.’
Ana saw tears in Fred’s eyes as he talked about his daughter. His lips twitched. Ana knew that look. She’d had to fight back tears more times than she could count. She couldn’t think of a thing to say so she picked up the piece of cake and took a nibble.
‘And that tea of yours must be getting cold by now. I’ll fetch you another. And before you start complaining, sweetheart, the tea’s on the house as well.’
On the house? What was that? Ana’s heart sank a little. She’d thought her English was improving, getting quite good in fact, but Fred was providing her with a whole new lexicon. And ‘sweetheart’. She knew ‘sweet’ and she knew ‘heart’ but not the two together. She would ask. Fred didn’t seem to mind explaining things to her.
He was back with the tea in no time.
‘Why do you call me “sweetheart”? I am Ana.’
‘Yes, I know you are now, sweetheart, but that’s what I call anyone – man or woman, boy or girl – who makes my heart beat a little sweeter for being in their company.’
‘Oh,’ Ana said. She understood exactly what he was saying and it was her turn to bite back tears… but tears of happiness that she had met Fred on such a terrible morning and he was being so kind to her. She would risk another question. ‘Do you have a friend – nice like you – who might be able to give me some work? And somewhere to live?’
Fred put the fingers of one hand to his lips and blew through them.
‘Phew. Now you’ve asked me something. I’ll give it a little think, eh? In the meantime you could wander up the town and see if any of the ticky-tacky tripper shops can give you work. Or a bit further, where, so I’m told, there are ladies’ clothes shops and the like. You might find work there.’
Ana found her way to the town. Ticky-tacky tripper shops, Fred had said. Ana wasn’t sure what that meant but she thought it might mean gambling machines and shops selling buckets and spades and holiday souvenirs. There were rows and rows of shops selling more or less the same thing, and gambling rooms with rides for children outside, and inside there were more people than she’d expected there to be given the weather, sliding coins into slots. Beep beep. Ping. Lots of flashing lights. Lots of shops selling skirts and trousers and very bright tops were further up the street. There was a big awning here, out over the pavement, and, with all the people huddled under it out of the rain, Ana found it difficult to get past. Her stomach rumbled again, despite the delicious cake of Fred’s she’d eaten, and she decided to cut short her search for work – there was always tomorrow and she would start early, nine o’clock, when the shops opened – and find somewhere she could buy food instead. And on the way home, if the rain stopped, she would walk along the beach and look for shells.
‘Cooee,’ the lady from Number 19 The Strand called out as Ana hurried along, trying to avoid making eye contact. She felt her neck sink into her shoulders – or was it her shoulders rising up to meet her ears? She shivered. It had stopped raining now but her clothes were still damp. In her pocket, her left hand was closed carefully over two small white shells she had found on her walk back along the beach – like the shell Venus was climbing out of in the painting by Boticelli, only much, much smaller, no bigger than her thumbnail. She couldn’t wait to get out of her wet things and find something dry to wear. She’d left a lot of clothes and shoes behind in Bristol, bringing with her only what she could carry… two small holdalls she’d bought in the market and a rucksack.
‘Cooee,’ the woman called again.
Ana knew her manners. She looked up.
‘Hello,’ she said.
The woman made her way carefully down the steps just as Ana reached the bottom one.
‘I’m sorry, dear,’ the woman said, ‘if I came across a bit abrupt earlier. Didn’t mean to. So, seeing as we’ve got two weeks as neighbours, shall we be friends?’
‘I’d like that,’ Ana said. Perhaps she, too, had been guilty of being a bit abrupt earlier. On the defensive. Vasile had said she was always on the defensive, but that was only because he’d had the habit of criticising and undermining just about everything she said and she had stood up for herself.
‘Cup of tea then?’ the woman said. ‘I’m Shelley. Michelle, really, after my French grandmother but everyone calls me Shelley.’
‘No thank you, Shelley,’ Ana said. ‘I am very wet and very hungry. I want to go to my chalet now to change, and to eat.’
‘Later then?’ Shelley said. ‘Off you go.’
‘Yes, later,’ Ana said. And off she went, a little lighter in spirit that Shelley, like Fred, was being kind and friendly. She would ask Shelley, when she got to know her a little better, if she knew anyone who could give her a job and somewhere to live.
Ana took a quick shower and changed into dry clothes. Then she took out her laptop. She typed in ‘Torbay’ and then ‘jobs’ and did a Google search. There were jobs in banks and solicitors’ offices, and there was one for a receptionist at a doctor’s surgery. All seemed to require qualifications Ana didn’t have. She sighed. This was going to be so much harder than she’d thought it would be.
Her phone beeped then, and Ana grabbed it from the table in front of her. She checked it wasn’t Vasile. No, not him. Her mother.
Oh, no! Her mind full of finding a job and looking on the internet, and a quick peek into Facebook to see what her sister was doing, and Jean back in Bristol, Ana had completely forgotten to ring her mother at the usual time.
She knew there would be recriminations because she’d forgotten to call, but she also knew her mother would be relieved she was well, and tell her she loved her and would ask when she was coming over for a visit. If all else failed she could go back to Romania, couldn’t she? But did she want to?
‘Bunā seara, Mama,’ she said.
Ana slept fitfully. She was unused to it being so quiet outside at night. In Bristol, and the other cities she’d lived in, the hum of traffic and the buzz from the neon lights never stopped. All Ana had heard, sitting up in bed with a cup of Rooibos tea – which she had hoped would help her sleep, but hadn’t – was the shush of water splashing against the sea wall as the tide was high. And then early – very early, about five o’clock – she had heard the screech of a gull. And not long after that a dog had barked. And then she had drifted off to sleep at last.
‘Nine o’clock?’
Ana had never slept in that late before and had to say the words out loud to make herself believe them. Back in Romania there had always been jobs to do for her mother – who had been affected by the communist regime and could never quite believe it wouldn’t come back – before she could go to school, or work when she got older.
‘But you’re on holiday,’ she told herself, and laughed.
Ana didn’t know what to do on a holiday because she’d never had one. In the hotels, people who came on holiday often stayed in bed much later than nine o’clock, which made making the beds and vacuuming and replenishing the welcome trays difficult. And sex. Many of them had lots of sex if the state of the beds was anything to go by. Ana wasn’t at all sure now that looking for work in a hotel would be a good idea. Maybe it was time to try something different?
Perhaps Shelley from Number 19 The Strand had the right idea about being on holiday – to sit on the deck and just gaze about and say ‘hello’ in a cheery way to passers-by. Ana didn’t think she could knit though.
She made a cup of coffee and put a slice of toast under the grill. When the toast was the shade of brown she liked it to be she slathered it with butter and took her breakfast outside onto the deck. The sun was already high and it was quite warm.
Oh, Shelley was walking back up the beach, a towel wrapped round her. And she had bare legs and nothing on her feet. With a varicose vein Ana could see from where she was sitting. She shivered, thinking how cold the water must be. It was July, but in Ana’s experience summers in England weren’t as hot as they were in Romania. Winters weren’t as cold either, which was a bonus.
Ana placed her coffee and toast on the table and waved to Shelley.
Shelley waved back.
As Shelley came within hearing distance Ana called out, ‘Would you like coffee? I have coffee. And toast. Or tea.’
It seemed the thing to do, to be friendly. And Shelley reminded Ana of her mother a little – she said things without really thinking. Like when Ana had told her mother she was coming to England and she’d held up her hands in horror and said Ana would be a prostitute before she knew it. As if Ana would consider such a thing, although she knew of girls who had sunk to that to pay the rent and buy food.
‘What was that?’ Shelley said, nearing Ana’s chalet. She put a finger in her ear and waggled it. Shook her head. ‘Water gets in my ears and I can’t hear a thing.’
Ana repeated her offer.
‘Coffee will be very welcome, Ana. I’ll just get out of these wet things and spend a penny and I’ll be right over.’
Spend a penny? What was that? Surely Shelley wasn’t going to go to the shops before coming round for a cup of coffee? And what could she buy for a penny in the shops anyway? Ana let her mind race around trying to work out what ‘spend a penny’ might mean while she waited for Shelley.
Shelley was back in no time, so obviously the phrase didn’t refer to buying anything. Ana brought the water back to the boil and made coffee for Shelley and took it out to her.
‘That’s better,’ Shelley said, pulling out the other chair on Ana’s deck. She took the coffee from Ana and sipped cautiously at the hot liquid. ‘Seawater is very exhilarating but it goes for the bladder.’
‘Ah, I think I understand now,’ Ana said. She smiled. ‘When you said you were going to spend a penny, I thought, at first, you were going to the shops. But it means to go to the toilet?’
‘It does indeed,’ Shelley said. ‘I did think you looked a bit puzzled when I said it but I was desperate. Well done you for working it out for yourself. Bit of a light-bulb moment for you, I expect.’
Light-bulb moment?
‘Yes,’ Ana said. She’d worked out what that meant too.
‘We English speak in riddles much of the time,’ Shelley laughed. ‘But I daresay you’re getting used to our funny ways now.’
‘I am.’
‘So, lovey, are you going to join me tomorrow morning? Sets you up for the day, a quick dip in the briny does.’
Ana didn’t understand every word but she got most of it.
‘I don’t have a dress for swimming,’ she said.
‘Swimming costume, lovey. That’s what you say. Not dress.’
‘I still don’t have one – dress or costume,’ Ana said, laughing.
‘Ah, but I can remedy that. I’ve got four with me, although they might be a bit of a tight fit on you – I’m so skinny, you see. And you should laugh more… you’re a lovely-looking young woman when you laugh.’
‘Thank you,’ Ana said. She’d been told she was good-looking before but it was hard to believe when Vasile had said one thing and then behaved to her in a bad way… that made her smile drop and lines appear between her eyes and on her forehead, and it made her mouth droop.
‘But do I detect some sadness in you, Ana? Tell me to mind my own if you don’t want to say.’
‘I don’t mind saying,’ Ana said. ‘I was pregnant but I lost the baby, and then the father of the child left me. So, I am here to make a new life. A better life.’
There, that was the first time she’d said those words and somehow it seemed the right thing to be doing, saying them to Shelley.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, lovey. Really sorry,’ Shelley said. She put down her cup of coffee and leaned across the table to give Ana a hug. ‘The baby, I mean. I’ll stick my head above the parapet here and say I think you’re better off without the man, in the circumstances.’
‘I think you are right,’ Ana said. She was fast coming to like Shelley very much – she liked the way she said what she thought but that there was caring and concern in every pore of her too.
‘If I were you, lovey, which I know I’m not, I’d let yourself mourn that little baby of yours before you go stressing about finding a job.’
‘I am mourning,’ Ana said, gulping back tears. Sometimes it made her even sadder if someone was being understanding and kind than it did if they were saying bad things. ‘Every day. But I still have to live. And to live I need money, and to get money I will have to find a job. And somewhere to live.’
‘Well, that’s the right spirit,’ Shelley said. ‘After your little holiday. After a swim with me tomorrow morning, perhaps? Like I said, you can borrow one of my costumes.’
‘You are kind to say nice things of me, but I don’t need to borrow your costume, thank you.’
‘You could buy one then. Loads of shops up the main street selling costumes in every colour and style and size imaginable.’
‘I don’t think I want to swim. The water must be cold, even though it’s July.’
‘But getting warmer by the minute. All that rain we had yesterday cleared the air something wonderful.’
Ana had to agree. It was getting warmer, the sun streaming onto her deck. She could see Shelley’s thin grey hair curling as it dried in the warmth.
‘So, what are you going to do today, lovey?’
‘I’m going to look for work. I’ve looked on the internet for jobs in the area but I don’t have the right qualifications for what’s available at the moment. So, I’m going to go into town and see if there are letters in windows saying “Job vacant”. My friend, Jean, in Bristol told me I might find a job that way.’
‘Well, good luck with that. You need luck as well as the skills to do the job these days. Sometimes, though, it’s just being in the right place at the right time that matters. But its “notices”, lovey. Not letters. We say “notices in windows”.’
Oh dear. Shelley was correcting her again and although Ana knew the older woman meant kindly, and was only trying to help, still it made something cold wrap around her heart, her soul, like a damp blanket. But she wasn’t going to give up.
‘Notices in windows,’ Ana repeated. ‘I’ll remember that.’
‘Good. You’ll get there, lovey. It’s great that you’re being proactive – which I believe is common parlance for getting off your backside and doing something for yourself. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll let you get on.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the very tall and elegant woman in Buttons and Bows Boutique said, ‘but the job’s just gone. I agreed to take someone on just half an hour ago. If only you’d come in earlier, I think you might have been perfect. I should have taken the notice out of the window. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ Ana said, ‘that the job’s just gone.’ She would have liked to have worked here in a shop that sold beautiful things and for a woman who seemed so friendly and genuinely sad she couldn’t offer Ana the job. And then she said, ‘If the person you’ve taken on doesn’t work out, could you let me know? I could give you my email address?’
‘Oh yes, why not?’ the woman said. She handed Ana one of her business cards. ‘Write it on the back of that.’
Ana wrote.
Two customers came in then, so Ana slid the card with her name and email address on it across the counter and left. She didn’t hold out much hope, but she’d been what Shelley had said was proactive, hadn’t she?
It felt the right thing to be doing, walking around the small town she hoped to live, and work, in permanently very soon. She was getting a feel for the place. It felt good. There was a happy atmosphere and no one seemed in a rush as they stopped to look in shop windows or greet someone they knew and stood chatting for a few moments. Ana found a newsagent’s and bought a local paper. There would be jobs advertised in there. Every avenue had to be explored when looking for a job, she knew that, because she’d done it when she first came to England.
Outside the newsagent’s there was a noticeboard advertising all sorts of things for sale – furniture and bicycles, garden tools and cats. And houses and flats for rent. Oh dear, everything seemed far more expensive here than in Bristol, but nowhere near as expensive as London. Ana wrote down the numbers to call about two flats for rent. She had enough money for two months’ rent and money left over for food.
And then she went back in and bought a map of the area so she’d know where to go to look at flats.
This was what Shelley had meant by ‘getting off your backside’, wasn’t it?
Ana found a park and sat down to look through the job advertisements in the newspaper. There weren’t many – just a few jobs cleaning pubs and offices, and a couple of situations vacant in an estate agent’s office. She didn’t think she’d bother with any of that because cleaning wouldn’t pay much and she’d need to know more about the area than she did now before taking on a job in an estate agent’s.
But it was beautiful and peaceful in the park, and it seemed strange that it was so close to the seafront, with all the bars and lots of people, and yet so different. Ana closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun. She dozed off for a few moments and jolted awake, realising she was hungry. That dragon rumble in her stomach, as Fred had called it. Ana smiled, thinking about Fred. She hoped he might have found a friend who could offer her a job. She’d go and ask him soon. But first she must find food.
Devon was famous for pasties, Ana knew that. In a shop called Oggy Oggy – just saying that name made Ana smile, even though she had no idea what it might mean – she bought a steak and Stilton pasty and sat outside on a bench to eat it. It was delicious. Ana wiped the pastry crumbs from her face and went into a shop opposite that sold clothes of all sorts, and bathing costumes in every style and size and colour imaginable, as Shelley had said there would be. Not expensive either. £4.99. Ana bought one the colour of rosehips, just because the colour reminded her of how she’d picked rosehips with her mother back in Romania to make syrup to keep them healthy through the winter. It had high-cut legs and a strap that did up behind the neck. Perhaps she would do two things – look for work and behave like someone on holiday too.
Ana was ready in her bathing costume, a towel wrapped around her shoulders, waiting for Shelley to come out of Number 19.
‘Shelley!’ she called, and waved, slipping the towel from her shoulders.
‘Well, look at you!’ Shelley shouted back.
Ana ran down the steps to meet her neighbour and together they stepped gingerly over the stones and shells deposited by the tide until they found the smoother, reddish sand. Shelley marched straight in, then bent her knees until her shoulders were under the water. As Shelley was so much older than her, Ana thought she had best follow suit.
‘It’s so coooold!’ Ana said. A shiver ran across her shoulders and she shuddered.
‘But bracing,’ Shelley said. ‘You’ll get used to it, like a body can get used to most things.’
‘I hope so!’ Ana said, and she didn’t just mean the bracing sea but also the loss of her baby, and Vasile’s desertion.
And so began an early-morning routine for Ana and Shelley. Ana still searched for jobs online, but she was determined to let herself grieve for her baby and enjoy her little holiday as much as she could.
On her way back up the beach Ana picked up small shells – purple, mauve and pink; tiny, hinged shells with a sheen on them like butterflies when you opened them out. Shelley gave Ana a little jar that had held olives to keep them in. And after their swim every day, either Ana or Shelley made coffee and they drank it together companionably.
‘I’m a widow now,’ Shelley told her. ‘Do you know what widow means?’
‘Yes. Your husband has died. I am sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t be sorry, lovey. Got more freedom now than ever I had when I was married!’
‘Do you have son or daughter?’
‘Two daughters. And both of ’em thinks they know what’s best for me. Both of ’em keep saying they’ll be fine about it if I want to marry again. The subtext of that is I’ll have someone to look after me in my old age instead of them! I’m not daft. They bring me brochures of singles holidays they think I should go on and I say, “That’s lovely, darling. I like the look of that one. I’ll book that.” And that’s where they think I am now, on one of the holidays they’ve suggested. They think I’m in Austria or Italy or Jersey or somewhere on a coach trip, but I’m here. I always tell them I won’t be sending postcards so they don’t expect any. But I ask you, Ana… as if I want another man to have to cook and clean for, and wash socks for, and probably “the other” as well!’
‘The other what?’ Ana asked.
But Shelley was unable to answer for a few minutes because she was laughing so much.
‘Sex, lovey. Men never seem to tire of it. Even a thin old pensioner like me with saggy boobs and bum will do!’
Hmm. Sex. Ana had always rather liked sex. But she would be careful from now on to whom she gave her body, just for a little pleasure. Ana didn’t quite know what to say, so she took another sip of coffee. She was getting to know Shelley now, and knew she didn’t like a gap in the conversation, and it was almost like her duty to fill it.
‘What about you, lovey?’ Shelley went on, as Ana had known she would. ‘When do you think you might look for someone special? Someone who’s kinder to you than that old Vaseline bloke?’
‘Vaseline?’ Ana began to laugh. She knew Vaseline was an ointment you put on sore places. Shelley had misheard her, hadn’t she? Ana laughed and laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. And it felt so good she began to cry all over again, but they were healing tears. ‘His name is Vasile,’ she managed to blurt out at last. ‘V A S I L E.’
Shelley patted her hand.
‘Didn’t mean to upset you, lovey, but it seems you’re over him now, eh?’
‘Yes. Yes. I think I am. Thank you. But not the baby. I’ll never forget the baby.’
‘No, we never forget those,’ Shelley said, and Ana got the feeling Shelley had lost more than one baby of her own.
It was the first day of the second week of Ana’s holiday already. She was beginning to relax, to be happy again, helped by Shelley’s good humour, the daily swims, the walks she took along the coast, and the fact that she was eating healthier food these days. But it was time to go and see Fred again, to see if he might have found someone who could give her a job and somewhere to live.
‘Well, well, well, look what the cat’s brought in,’ Fred said, looking up as she entered The Port Light. He waggled his fingers at her in a welcome wave and grinned. That wave and that grin were telling Ana he was pleased to see her and she was right to be here. She wasn’t entirely sure what ‘look what the cat’s brought in’ meant but she thought it was a good thing, because the cat she’d had back in Romania as a child had often brought ‘gifts’ of mice or birds, and once a squirrel, and left them on the doorstep. Was Fred saying it was like a gift to him that she had come to his café?
Ana waggled her fingers back at Fred and smiled.
‘Be with you in a minute, sweetheart,’ Fred said.
There were two people ahead of Ana in the queue and over half of the tables were occupied today. And there was the smell of bacon in the air. On a board behind where Fred stood were advertised BACON BAPS AND EGG BAPS. Each was two pounds.
A young man came out into the café, a plate in each hand. He took them over to an elderly couple sitting in the window seat Ana had sat in when she first came here.
So, Fred had someone who worked for him. Ana felt her happy heart dim a little – had Fred given this young man a job since she’d seen him last? She could do that – make bacon baps and egg baps. She ought to have called in before now.
He seemed a nice young man though, who was helping Fred.
‘So, sweetheart, what’s it going to be today?’ Fred asked when it was her turn to be served.
‘Black tea, please. No sugar. And a slice of… of…’ Ana looked to see if there was a sign on the cake Fred had given her a slice of over a week ago now. Ah yes. ‘A slice of Bakewell tart too, please?’
‘Go and sit yourself down,’ Fred said. ‘I’ll bring it over.’
‘How much?’ Ana asked. Quickly she added the cost of tea, which she could see on the menu board, to the cake, which was £1.75. ‘Three pounds, yes?’
‘If you insist. But two pounds from you will do me.’
Ana took three pound coins from her purse and put them on the counter. She looked up at Fred and grinned.
Fred slid a pound back at her.
‘Worth it for your company, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Now go and sit down or I’ll get Marcus here to throw you out.’
Marcus – the young man who was bringing more plates of bacon baps back out – just grinned at Fred, then looked at Ana and raised his eyebrows; he was obviously used to Fred’s jokey ways.
Ana accepted the pound and went and sat down at a table for two in the corner. She couldn’t quite see the sea from where she sat, but it didn’t matter. She knew it was there and once she found a job and a place to live she could go and look at it every day if she wanted to.
‘Here we are then, sweetheart,’ Fred said, sliding a mug of tea and the plate with the cake on it onto the table in front of Ana. ‘Enjoying your holiday?’
‘I am, thank you,’ Ana said.
‘Good,’ Fred said, sitting down opposite her. ‘Marcus can hold the fort for a moment, now the bacon and egg bap rush is over. Only serve them up until half past eleven.’
‘Marcus?’ Ana said.
‘Don’t look like that, sweetheart,’ Fred said. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’ve hired Marcus to work here when I could have had you out the back frying up bacon and flipping eggs.’
‘Yes,’ Ana said. ‘I could do that.’
‘I’m sure you could. Marcus – for my sins – is my grandson. My eldest’s eldest, all the way down from sunny Kent, which is where my eldest lives. He’s doing a bit of work experience. And getting under my feet at home ’cos he’s stopping with me, and getting under my feet here as well. He’ll be gone in a couple of days and I don’t think it’s going to break his heart.’
‘He doesn’t like the work?’
‘No. I’ve tried telling him I usually manage it all – the cakes and drinks, and the breakfast baps – but he’s totally unimpressed. I have had a bit of help in the past but she’s gone now. Well, I let her go, if you get my drift.’
Ana nodded. Yes, she knew what that meant. Either there was no money to pay her, or she wasn’t a good worker. Ana wasn’t going to ask which.
‘The truth of it is, Ana, I’m not making enough to pay two wages or I’d break my neck to have you work here. But seeing as I can’t, what I’ve done, sweetheart, is I’ve worn my fingers to the bone tapping in phone numbers of friends and business acquaintances, asking if any of them could offer you work, and I’m sad to say no one’s come back to me to say they can.’
‘And somewhere to live,’ Ana said.
‘That too,’ Fred said. ‘I’m sorrier than you might think I am. And now I’d better go and check up on that little blighter, make sure he’s wiping down the mess he makes in my kitchen.’
‘Thank you, Fred,’ Ana said, ‘for asking for me.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll keep asking, you keep looking. Deal?’
Fred stood up.
‘Deal,’ Ana said.
‘Come back in a few days. Say three. I might have better news then.’ Fred patted Ana on her upper arm, the way Ana had patted friends who needed someone to be there, to touch them. The touch felt good – fatherly. But it would take a miracle for Fred to be able to give her work. The café was emptying now and no one else had come in. Ana could see business would have to pick up quite considerably, but she wouldn’t let go of the hope in her heart that she might be able to work here.
‘I will,’ Ana said as Fred went back to deal with Marcus.
‘And your address?’ the lady behind the desk in the library – where Ana had gone to use the computer to look for jobs because her laptop was out of charge and she didn’t like to use the electricity in the chalet to top it up in case she had to pay extra – asked.
‘I’m staying at Number 23 The Strand at the moment,’ Ana told her.
‘And how long have you lived there?’
‘I’m only staying there,’ Ana said. ‘For two weeks. Although I only have four days left now.’
‘Ah, well, that could be a problem. Employers like to know a person is settled.’
‘I know.’ This wasn’t the first time Ana had come up against this particular stumbling block. And then she had what Shelley had called a ‘light-bulb moment’. She would go and ask if Fred would let her use his address, or his café’s address, when she applied for jobs. Ana was certain he would do that for her. ‘But I have a solution. Thank you. I’ll be back.’
She was being proactive again. How glad she was she’d met Shelley. And Fred. She was getting closer to her dream of living here now, wasn’t she?
‘Oh.’ The Port Light was closed today even though it was a sunny day and there were plenty of people about. There were no lights on and no one inside. Ana looked through the glass door and saw a little pile of envelopes on the mat, as though no one had been there for a few days. She ought to have called before. Then Ana saw the notice Sellotaped to the door. Closed due to illness.
Fred was ill? There was a telephone number to call if there were any enquiries. Ana had an enquiry. Fred had been very kind to her and she didn’t like to think he was ill. Another worry for his daughter who had problems. Ana got her mobile from her bag and was just tapping in the number when someone came to stand beside her. A young woman about her own age.
‘Oh dear,’ the woman said. ‘Are you trying to ring about my father?’
‘Fred?’ Ana said.
‘That’s the chap.’
Ana told the woman how she was staying at 23 The Strand for two weeks while she looked for work and somewhere to live in the area. And how Fred had said he would see if he could help.
‘So,’ Ana finished, ‘when I got here it was a shock to know he was ill. When you arrived I was about to call him to say I’m sorry and if, perhaps, he has found work for me. He said he would ask his friends.’
‘That’s Dad all over,’ the young woman said. ‘Always there in a crisis. Got one of his own now, though, because he tripped over the cat, would you believe, and broke his hip. Had a replacement but it’s going to be a while before he’s back here. Silly old duffer did it just after my nephew went back home or he’d have had help.’
‘Marcus?’ Ana said. ‘I met him.’
‘Did you now? Now, I don’t know what Dad said, or did, to him, but my older sister sent him down here for Dad to try and sort him out. Going down the slippery road was Marcus but it seems he’s turned over a new leaf. Going to go on to Sixth Form College now, so he says, instead of leaving school and just dossing about. Going to do the sciences, so he says – physics, maths and chemistry. Now there’s a turn-up for the books!’
Turn over a new leaf? Turn-up for the books? Ana didn’t know these phrases but she could tell they were good things.
‘I am glad for Marcus,’ Ana said. ‘But sorry that Fred has broken his hip. I’m Ana.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Ana. I’m Saffron. Dad’s youngest. Likes a fancy name does Dad. My sisters are Scarlett and Sherry.’
Fred’s youngest daughter – the one with problems?
‘Hello, Saffron,’ Ana said. ‘Fred spoke of you to me.’
‘Did he, then? Let’s get inside, shall we? I’ll ring Dad and let him know you’re here.’
Saffron found the key, and stepped inside. Ana followed, picking up the post from the mat as she went. Within seconds Saffron had taken out her phone and was talking, far too fast for Ana to understand.
‘God only knows what I’m going to do now,’ Saffron said, switching off her phone. ‘I’ve got three kids who all go to different schools, and all of them doing summer-club stuff while I work my butt off to feed them all, and all wanting me there at five o’clock. You have no idea the hoops I have to jump through to organise so they’re looked after until I can fetch them. This place needs a bit of cleaning up and those cakes, which must have gone stale now, need throwing out. My sisters are like chocolate teapots, the pair of them. I love them to bits but they claim their lives are busier than mine. Well, I suppose with them living miles away and me being the one just up the road, it’s down to me, eh?’
Chocolate teapot? What use was a teapot made of chocolate… oh, Ana understood now. And then an idea came to her.
‘Perhaps I can help you,’ Ana said. ‘Perhaps I could fetch your children for you?’
‘Ah, bless you,’ Saffron said. ‘You haven’t met the little villains yet. You might change your mind.’
Ana knew what ‘villains’ meant but she also knew Saffron loved her children and would lie down and die for them – it was the way her eyes lit up when she mentioned them.
‘Or I can work here and make tea and coffee until Fred is better. I can make cake. English cake. Romanian cake. Cozonac. Cozonac is a special Romanian cake for Easter and Christmas. It’s a sweet bread with dried fruit and nuts.’
‘Yum yum,’ Saffron said. ‘Dad could do with something different in here to bring the punters in. The season’s short and I’m always telling him he could open more than he does in the winter.’
‘Soup,’ Ana said. ‘He could serve soup in winter.’
‘Now there’s an idea.’
‘I can make soup. Spicy parsnip. Potato and leek.’
‘Sounds delish. You’ll be a great asset to Dad, I can see that already.’
Delish? Asset? Ana didn’t know these words but she had a feeling they were good ones.
‘And I can clean. Even the toilets. I did that in my last job in a hotel in Bristol. But now I’d like to live here. And to work. I need work.’
‘Blimey, you’re desperate if you’d clean toilets!’ Saffron laughed, and Ana had a feeling this daughter of Fred’s was the one most like him. She liked Saffron already anyway, just as she’d liked Fred.
‘It’s essential, yes?’
‘Very,’ Saffron said. ‘Dad did have someone helping him but she turned her nose up at cleaning the toilet and she was light-fingered.’
‘Light-fingered?’
‘Stole stuff. Teabags. Bits of cake. A tenner here and there when she thought Dad wouldn’t notice.’ Saffron began clearing the stale cake from the stands, shoving it all into a plastic bag.
‘I don’t take things,’ Ana said.
Saffron turned to face her. She put the bag down and placed her hands on Ana’s shoulders.
‘D’you know, Ana? I believe you. Perhaps, between us, we could keep this place going until Dad’s back on his feet, as it were. When can you start?’
‘Now,’ Ana said.
‘You’re on,’ Saffron said.
‘I’m in the right place at the right time?’ Ana said. Shelley had said that.
‘You could say that,’ Saffron said, giving her a hug.
Ana hugged her back.
She took a deep breath – she had something else she needed to ask.
‘At the library the lady said I had to have a permanent address to apply for jobs. Do you think Fred would let me use this address?’
‘I don’t see why not. There’s a flat up over, not that anyone’s lived in it for years. Dad uses it to store stuff. But if he has a hissy fit and says no, seeing as we’re going to be working together you could use my address.’
‘I can?’
‘Didn’t I just say?’ Saffron laughed. ‘And if you’ve got nowhere to go after you leave the holiday let, and before this place is cleaned up, I could put my two boys in together and give you a bed. Just till you get sorted. That’s if you can stand the din of three excited kids about the place?’
‘I can,’ Ana said, too choked up at Saffron’s kindness to say more.
‘Right then. Let’s get on. There’s work to do.’
Ana nodded, still unable to say anything for fear of dissolving into tears, which would help no one at that moment. She went into the kitchen and found a pair of rubber gloves and put them on. She had made a new friend and had a feeling everything was going to be all right after all.
Ana knocked loudly on Shelley’s door at seven-thirty the next morning. She knew Shelley was up because all the lights were on inside.
‘Blimey, girl, are you just coming home or just going out?’ Shelley said when she answered the knock. ‘Black as pitch it was from your place yesterday evening when I glanced over. Had a little liaison, did you? Some handsome fisherman or something?’ Shelley tapped the side of her nose and winked.
Ana didn’t know what liaison meant but she could guess – Shelley thought she had been in bed with someone, didn’t she?
‘Not that, no,’ Ana said. ‘I have a job. I began yesterday. Saffron and me, we scrubbed and we cleaned, and I made cake. It was ten o’clock when I got home yesterday. Today we will open The Port Light café at half past eight. I won’t have time to swim today.’
‘Well, there’s a change of fortune for you. I’m pleased for you, lovey. Really pleased. And I’ve got a bit of news for you. I’m going home a couple of days early. Clean forgot I had a hospital appointment, didn’t I?’
‘Hospital?’
Was Shelley ill?
‘Don’t look so worried. Nothing serious. Just something I have to do once a year to keep an eye on the old ticker. A load of old nonsense because I’m as fit as a fiddle and the swimming helps. But I suppose I’d better go, get the old ticker checked out again, and then they’ll scoot me off to look after myself for another year.’ Shelley placed her hand on her chest and Ana was pretty sure ticker was a funny term for heart. ‘So that means I probably won’t be here when you get back later.’
‘Oh,’ Ana said.
‘But I’ve loved your company, Ana. I really have.’
‘And me. I like spending time with you. Thank you.’
‘So that’s mutual then. But I won’t say we’ll keep in touch and here’s my address or anything because you don’t need an old bag like me in your life.’
‘Oh,’ Ana said again. She understood exactly what it was Shelley was saying. ‘But if you come back I hope I will still be working at The Port Light. You can come and see me, yes?’
‘Yes,’ Shelley said. ‘Now let’s have that goodbye hug.’ She pulled Ana towards her and Ana could feel Shelley’s bones, thin and hard against her. ‘Now off you go, and get on with what I hope will be a very long and happy life, Ana, lovey.’
‘I hope so too,’ Ana said, and left.
Dear next occupant,
I didn’t know what to leave for you as is the tradition at 23 The Strand. So, I leave you my collection of shells. Sometimes it is the smallest things that cost no money that give the happiest thoughts. I live and work here now, at The Port Light café, if you want to call there and have coffee. I can collect shells every day now if I want to. These are for you, a memory of your holiday. Have a happy time. You can leave something for the next occupant if that is what you want to do.
Ana