Salt Sisters

in the cottage.
Everything was small, scaled-down like a hobbit hole. The back door opened right into the kitchen-dining room which was no more than a few metres wide – serving would be a very short walk. The kitchen was gloriously retro, with little embroidered curtains covering the bottom units instead of cupboard doors, and a stove that had probably been there since gas was first installed. The dining table would seat four at a pinch and took up half of the room. I gazed admiringly at the patterned floor tiles.
The living room was a little bigger, with a two-seater sofa along one wall and a couple of armchairs snuggled into the bay window. It had an open fireplace with a brick surround, and bookshelves built into the recesses on either side of the chimney breast. The room smelled smoky and I could imagine how cosy it would feel with a roaring fire.
A narrow staircase led to the top floor, which was dominated by a surprisingly spacious main bedroom. It was also very old-fashioned, with a forest green carpet and crocheted bed cover, but the height of the house and the elevation of the hill gave it the most incredible views out to sea. I pulled back the lace curtain to get a better look.
I could see for miles, from up here – as far as Bamburgh to the north. Years of salty wind had beaten the glass and distorted it in patches, warping the fishing boats in the harbour far below. Amy would have loved this, I thought to myself.
The green carpet should have been a warning sign – the bathroom next door contained the kitschiest avocado suite. The room was also facing to sea, and I could picture myself enjoying a soak in the green tub while enjoying the views from the beautiful big window. Adam clapped his hands in delight and Sandra let out a sigh of relief.
‘I was nervous to let you see this! I thought you’d find it painfully uncool. Shows how much I know about what’s hip these days!’
She headed back downstairs, shaking her head and chuckling to herself. Adam and I smiled at each other as Betsy wrinkled her nose up.
‘Gross,’ she whispered.
Adam insisted that I view all three properties before making a decision, but I knew Puffin Cottage was the one, and I told Sandra to go ahead and arrange the contract. Adam and I had arrived in Seahouses with just a suitcase each, so he called Thierry and asked him to urgently airfreight some of my clothes and personal belongings.
We went to kill some time in the amusement arcade. Amy and I used to hang out there as teenagers and most of the year it was a sorry story, a place for rain-soaked day-trippers to dry out and curse the British weather as they counted down the hours until their bus home. But in the summer, when the village swelled with holidaymakers and the population quadrupled, the arcade had been a great spot to meet boys.
Today it was empty, apart from a couple of old ladies at slot machines. I happily changed a twenty-pound note into pound coins for the kids, congratulating myself on finding a way to keep them amused and entertained.
‘Legal guardianship’ – it sounded so official, so serious. As much as I wanted to fulfil Amy’s wishes, perhaps it didn’t need to be a full-time gig. Mike was more than capable of looking after the children on his own, especially with Rachel, Mum, and Auntie Sue right on the doorstep. What more could I add? Perhaps I could come home every month or two for a few days, just to check in on them and be the fun aunt. Puffin Cottage could be my home away from home.
Adam must have read my mind.
‘You’re pretty good at this, you know. Better than you realise. And they clearly like having you around. Who knows – after three months, you might decide to make it a more permanent arrangement?’
‘And what about that small matter of my own life? Not to mention my career?’
He sighed. ‘There are other careers, you know. You would find some other way to fill your days.’
Betsy came and climbed onto my lap, clutching her tummy. ‘Auntie Izzy, I feel sick. I want to go home.’
We trudged back up Main Street, past The Ship and along the road to their house, determined to make it back before Betsy threw up and ruined my winning streak.
With Adam returning the hire car to the airport before he flew back to Hong Kong, I needed some wheels, too. Rachel suggested we pay a visit to Phil’s garage to see if he had any cars that were between owners and available for hire.
The garage was at the end of a side street, out towards the caravan park. It was a modest business, and the space was scarcely big enough to hold two cars, with three more parked outside. The door was open when we got there, and a pair of long legs were sticking out from underneath a rusting Vauxhall. I coughed loudly and the rest of Phil appeared.
He only had a Mini, but that was perfect – I wasn’t planning any long trips. As long as the children could comfortably fit inside, that would do. Phil offered a discount on a long-term rental if I paid in cash, and I agreed to come back once I’d been to the bank. Once again, he looked like he was about to cry just at the sight of me. I was clearly radiating sadness these days.
With new digs and a new set of wheels, we had achieved a lot in one day. Now I just needed to persuade my boss to give me extended bereavement leave – figuring out how to resuscitate my career was a problem for three months down the line. I fired off an email to Toby, officially requesting a short sabbatical.
Adam had been my rock, and I was dreading saying