The Grand Reopening of Dandelion Café (8 page)

Then she paused when she heard, ‘Annie was a bonnie little thing. Cried and cried, but she was so pretty, all tiny and wrinkled and pink and lovely.’

River, who was clearly not used to such chat, mumbled something, took the photo and sloped back to the table covered in frames. Holly and Annie exchanged a smile.

And when she walked past Valtar, who was scraping dirt out of the grooves in the laminate tabletops and Gaffer-taping up the slits in the lino booth-seats, he gave Annie a wink and said under his breath, ‘She’s trying.’

‘I know.’ Annie nodded.

‘In both meanings of the word,’ muttered Martha as she walked past to empty her bucket. ‘Here, River, let me see that picture.’ She held out a hand for the photograph and he duly turned back to give it to her.

Martha sighed, bringing it right up close to her eye to study it in detail. ‘I think that’s my dad there, in the window, can you see?’ She passed the photo over to Annie who could just make out half a man’s head with wire spectacles.

‘I don’t know anything about your dad,’ Annie said, handing the picture back, not wanting to mention how she could barely make out the figure as Martha looked so hopeful.

‘No. Me neither. Just that he was desperately kind,’ Martha said, holding the photo back up to her face. ‘That’s all Mum and anyone said about him, very kind. I remember him being very gentle, but not massively talkative. He came home from work, read the paper, had dinner, went to bed. I’ve often wondered whether he was challenging enough for Mum but she was insistent that he was. And of course that he was desperately kind.’ Martha smiled, and handed the photo back to River who was waiting, clearly uncomfortable, not knowing what to do with his hands. ‘I didn’t know him well enough to tell you much more. He died when I was five. And you know what Enid was like.’ Martha sighed, exasperated, ‘Ask her anything about the past and she snapped shut like a mussel shell. So frustrating.’

Annie went back to the table of photos, flicked through them looking for more of people she recognised but came up short. ‘Maybe you’ll find something when you start clearing out Enid’s houseboat?’ she suggested.

Martha shook her head. ‘Have you seen it? It’s piled high. It’ll take me years to go through it. But actually, Jane Williams, you know from the boat next to Mum’s?’

Annie shook her head, she didn’t know the name.

‘She lives with her mother who has dementia, poor woman, won’t be here for long, poor old Jane does everything for her, anyway she’s offered to give me a hand. Mum left her some jewellery and God knows where it is in that shambles.’ Martha did a little snort, exasperation disguising any notion of how upsetting clearing her mum’s belongings was going to be. ‘Anyway, back to it,’ she said, collecting up her bucket and heading to the sink.

‘Hey, Annie,’ Holly called and nodded outside to where Matt, who had gone home to get his workbench and tools, was now out the front cutting down an old Victorian door panel for the kitchen that had been dragged out of the river years ago and left leaning up against the side of the boathouse. ‘He’s very handy,’ said Holly as she took the stack of photos from Annie and sorted through them to find another worth framing.

‘He
is
very handy,’ Annie added. And they both stood for a moment and watched as Matt pulled his sweatshirt off, taking his T-shirt with it to give a momentary glimpse of a set of golden-tanned abs.

‘You two are despicable,’ said Martha as she came back past with her bucket of clean water. ‘Completely despicable.’ But they watched, smirking, as she changed the direction of her floor-scrubbing so she could look out the window too.

Annie smiled, but there was only so long she could stare without looking obvious so, turning her back on the lovely view, she went over to the counter and crouched down to start sorting through all the junk underneath it. There were piles of old flyers for island events ‒ ones for Valtar’s Elvis nights at the pub and lots for bands playing at the lighthouse or at the club over the river, used notepads, pots of blunt pencils and Biros that didn’t work, boxes that when she opened them were filled with elastic bands, safety pins, a screwdriver with lots of different-sized heads, tape measures, corks, hairbands, old scissors and rolls of nearly finished Sellotape. ‘I take it this can all go in the bin?’ she shouted, holding up the box.

‘That was all Enid’s,’ Ludo shouted above his clattering.

Annie found a couple of pairs of shoes, an old cardigan, some dog-eared paperbacks and a pack of playing cards. Then, right at the back was a shoebox. A dead spider dropped on her hand as she pulled the box forward making her yell and tip back so she was sitting on the floor.

‘Everything OK?’ Holly called out.

‘Fine. Fine,’ said Annie, flicking the spider out of sight and resting the shoebox in her lap. She did a little laugh when she saw the Dolcis shoes logo and remembered a pair of hot-pink fur-lined pixie boots she’d begged for in the eighties, going in and trying them on and her mum saying she’d pay half. Annie had gone round the whole island for odd jobs ‒ she’d picked cherries, scrubbed boats, pulled up dandelions, cleaned cars ‒ and finally got her boots, in their white Dolcis box, in their black plastic Dolcis drawstring bag. It was a forgotten highlight of her childhood.

‘Mum?’ she shouted from where she sat on the floor. ‘What happened to my pink boots?’

‘Your brother took them,’ her mum called back.

‘He did?’ Annie frowned.

There was silence for a moment. ‘Gerty found them in the attic and wanted them.’

‘She did?’ Annie said, a note of triumph in her voice now.

‘Suzi wasn’t sure but, you know Gerty, no stopping her once she wants something.’

Annie held the lid of the box against her chest. Thinking of her niece in her pink fur-lined boots made her happier than anything to do with the cafe. She’d always been a bit worried that her brother would squash little Gerty’s spirit, but she should have had more faith.

Smiling, she looked down into the box and was surprised to see inside stacks and stacks of postcards, all lined up widthways like a Rolodex. Filed from old to new. The ones at the back browning, the edges frayed like they were well-thumbed. At the front they were shiny new from places like Tokyo, New York, Melbourne.

Annie took one from the back. Beautiful Cape Town it said on the front in a scrolling typeface and a picture of a sunset and fireworks and the shadow of Table Mountain.

River Walker
Enid Morris, Dandelion Cafe.

Abseiled Table Mountain this morning. Had to do it early as not strictly allowed. Had lights on our helmets but the sun rose just as we were half way, most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. Made me feel tiny. Small as you are
.

Matt (Dad)

The writing was worn. Like sticky hands had touched it over and over. Annie leant sideways so she could poke her head round the kitchen door.

‘Ludo?’ she said.

He looked up from where he was reshelving and organising.

‘Have you seen these before?’ Annie asked, holding the shoebox up at an angle so he could see inside.

‘Never.’

‘OK.’ She sat back. Buster, piqued by the idea of someone sitting at floor level, thumped over and lay himself down along the length of her outstretched leg. As the dog started snoring, Annie picked up the next postcard.

Patagonia, Chile. The Corcovado Volcano.

Ice climbing = harder than I thought. Broke wrist and can only use left hand ‒ excuse handwriting. View = life-changing
.

Would like you to see it one day
.

Matt (Dad)

Annapurna, Nepal

What that guy’s doing on the front, that’s what we did. Crazy fools
.

It was fun. Maybe not quite as fun as I had thought
.

Find myself missing you. Your mum sent me a pic. Walking ‒ well done! We’ll have you up a mountain before you know it
.

Matt (Dad)

Annie slipped it back into place, then, carefully so she didn’t disturb the dog, did a quick check over the counter to make sure that Matt was still outside and River was still busy with the frames. She felt like she was reading someone’s diary.

Moving to the later ones she picked out a photo of cherry blossom in Tokyo.

Here on promotional tour. Tenth time. Tired. Blossom reminded me of home. I know you probably don’t think I think of it as home, but there you go. Neither did I
.

See you at home, kiddo. Well done on your end-of-year report, your mum seems really proud. Sorry you were too busy to come to the phone
.

Dad

‘Annie, have you got—’

At the sound of Matt’s voice, Annie rammed the lid back on the box and fumbled it back onto the shelf, hoiking herself up all flustered and guilty-looking. Buster jumped up, startled, and did one of his feeble barks.

‘OK?’ Matt asked, puzzled, scooping up the floundering pug.

‘Fine.’

‘What’s that?’ He pointed to the old shoebox, moving his head to stop the snuffling dog from licking his face.

‘Receipts.’ Annie rolled her eyes. ‘Enid kept
everything
!’

Matt laughed, still distracted by Buster’s unwanted affections. ‘The hoarder next door.’

‘Bit like that, yeah.’

‘God this dog is insatiable. Do you want him?’

‘What? Permanently?’ Annie asked, shocked, as she went to lift the dog away from him.

‘Er no!’ Matt said without thinking, keeping hold of the fat little pug so he was dangling mid-air between them.

Annie laughed, ‘Ah-ha, so you do like him!’

Matt raised a disdainful brow as he let her take the dog. ‘Let’s just say he’s growing on me.’

‘And there I was thinking you had a heart of steel.’

‘Oh you did, did you?’ Matt asked, leaning back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest and waiting, amused, for her reply.

Annie looked away, feeling herself get unexpectedly shy. She buried her head in the rolls of fur at the pug’s neck and mumbled something that sounded like it might be an answer but was actually just nonsense.

Matt rolled his eyes and, pushing himself upright, said, ‘I need you to come and look at this door. See if you like it. And, I need a screwdriver.’

‘Oh there’s one on this shelf. I saw it earlier.’ Holding the dog with one hand, Annie bent down to find the screwdriver. ‘Oh and look at this,’ she held up a flyer for The River Rats, who were playing at The Black Rooms, a dingy club on the mainland, that night. ‘Hey, River.’

River glanced up under a curtain of hair.

‘This your band?’ she asked.

He looked suddenly like a rabbit caught in headlights. Like the last thing he wanted to do was admit that it was his band because there was a remote possibility that they might come and watch but also clearly quite proud of the fact that they had a gig. ‘Might be,’ he mumbled.

‘Interesting,’ said Annie, smirking a half-smile and glancing at Matt who was frowning at the flyer, his brain clearly whirring with images of underage drinking, sex, drugs and wild corruption.

‘Course it’s his bloody band!’ shouted Ludo from the kitchen.

‘Does your mother know you’re playing there?’ asked Matt, his voice stern.

‘Yes!’ snarled River.

‘Good one,’ said Annie to Matt under her breath.

Matt frowned back at the flyer.

‘You can’t come,’ said River, his voice catching, clearly worried. ‘You’re too old.’

‘Ha!’ Annie guffawed. ‘I am a young, trendy person, I’ll have you know. I live in North London, River.’

‘So?’ he scowled.

‘I go to gigs,’ she added.

Holly sniggered. ‘When was the last time you went to a gig, Annie?’

‘When there just happened to be a band playing at my local,’ she laughed.

‘Please don’t come,’ said River.

‘I won’t embarrass you,’ Annie said.

‘Yes you will.’

‘I’m hurt.’

‘I really want to talk to your mother about this,’ said Matt.

‘Oh shut up. Don’t. She’s fine.’

‘Matt.’ Annie found herself putting her hand on his arm, struggling to keep hold of the pug one-handed. ‘Leave it.’

He glanced back at her, frowned, then stabbed the flyer that was decorated with skull and crossbones and syringes with his finger.

‘Just for a second try and remember being seventeen,’ she whispered. ‘It’s OK, River,’ she called out. ‘I won’t embarrass you.’

‘Does that mean you won’t come?’

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘It means I won’t embarrass you.’

River decided that was the best answer he was going to get and, huffing, went to join Holly who was holding the pictures up to see where they fit best.

Annie turned her attention back to Matt. ‘What were you doing when you were seventeen?’

‘I was training for the Olympics.’

‘Oh!’ Annie screwed up her face. ‘That wasn’t quite the answer I was looking for.’

‘What were you doing when you were seventeen?’ he asked.

‘I was running wild,’ she laughed, lifting the dog up and talking to his squashed-in face. ‘Snogging boys and being a teenager.’

‘She was trouble,’ her mother called over and Annie was surprised that she’d been able to hear from that distance. ‘Caused me a lot of heartache.’